Alone
by bjxmas
Summary: Orders sequel. Dean at 16. Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out...
1. Ghostbusters

Alone

A black abyss of loneliness

A sequel to Orders - Dean at sixteen

It is not necessary that you have read Orders to follow this story but it may enhance the story if you have.

Dedicated to Zachlo, the awesome ones

Chapter One

Dean shoveled one more load of dirt before he winced, dropped the shovel and grabbed his left shoulder.

"Dean, you alright?" Sam asked his voice filled with concern.

"Yeah, just a sharp pain. It'll go away. Don't worry about it Sammy."

"Here, let me dig for awhile. You better rest."

Dean reluctantly handed the shovel to Sammy and climbed out of the grave. A sly smile crossed his face as he turned away from his brother. He felt only a slight twinge of guilt, after all his younger brother would need four more years of grave digging before he would catch up to him.

His shoulder didn't actually hurt; in fact, it was feeling pretty good, completely healed, but no need burdening his brother with that small detail. He was just making Sammy feel good by letting him help out his big bro.

He grabbed the salt and lighter fluid and laid them out by the grave. If Sam ever got down the six feet they would be ready to finish this job. He hoped it wouldn't take too long, as he stretched out on the grass for a nap.

"Boys, you know you have school tomorrow. How much longer you gonna be?" Dad yelled from the church doorway.

"We're workin' on it. Six feet don't come easy." Dean yelled back. And then to his brother he inquired:

"Sammy, is that the fastest you can dig? We're gonna be here all night at this rate."

"Well, Dean, if you hadn't wimped out on me, I wouldn't have to do all the digging."

"That hurts kiddo. Where's the sympathy?"

Pastor Jim handed John Winchester a cup of coffee, with a touch of whiskey to ward off the night air.

"You've done a good job raising your boys, John. They couldn't be better prepared for this fight."

"Have I prepared them or have I put them in harm's way?"

"I think destiny put them in harm's way. You're giving them the skills to survive."

"I don't know. I pray I've done right by them."

"Well John, no better place for you to pray. Will I ever see you at Sunday service?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath. Mary was the churchgoer, I only tagged along. Whatever faith I had in God died with Mary."

"God hasn't forsaken you John. He's with you in this fight."

"Jim, I admire your faith, but you should know by now that I'm one of the lost. I only believe in what I can see."

Meanwhile, Sammy was finally making progress.

"Dean, I hit the coffin."

"Well, about time. Clear off the dirt and bust open the lid."

Sam tried to break through the coffin lid but it was too solid.

"It's not breaking."

Dean rose and looked into the grave.

"Great!" Dean scoffed with a look of exasperation on his face. "Modern day coffins: new and improved. Designed to keep all the elements out: waterproof, insect proof, ghost hunter proof!"

He reached into his bag of weapons, produced a shot gun and loaded some 00 buckshot. He told Sammy to get out of the grave and when he was clear he fired into the coffin.

"That ought to do it." He flashed a cocky, crooked grin at his brother.

That did it alright. The coffin lid disintegrated and revealed the corpse. He started to shake the salt onto the body as he heard Sammy cry out.

"Dean, uh, I think we woke someone up."

The angry ghost was fast approaching Sam with intent to do bodily harm. Sammy was hurled onto the ground and started choking as the ghost tried to stop the ghost hunters.

Dean threw the rest of the salt into the grave and quickly sprayed the lighter fluid; he ignited the fluid with a match and watched the ghost on top of Sammy disappear into thin air.

"Sammy, you OK?"

"I think so. That was close."

"Yeah, lesson number one Sammy. Even ghosts don't wanna die."

Dean reached out his hand and helped his brother to his feet. He appeared nonchalant but deep down it scared him to see Sam in any danger. They gathered up their supplies, picked up their duffle bag and headed back to their dad and Pastor Jim.

"Everything go OK? I heard the shotgun." Dad inquired as they approached.

"No problem Dad." Dean answered.

"The ghost is gone Pastor Jim. He won't be bothering your parishioners any more." Sam added.

"Yeah, another fine job by your local ghostbustin' Winchester brothers!" Dean joked.


	2. Basketball

Chapter Two

"Winchester, think you've missed enough school? If you want a chance at passing this semester, you better be ready to fully participate. Let's see how your basketball skills are. You're on the skin team, get your shirt off and go in for Stevens at guard."

"Coach, how about I play with the shirts? It's a little drafty in here and I've just come off sick leave. Don't want to catch a cold." Dean tried to reason with the coach.

"Winchester, I'm the boss here. You got a full clearance from the school nurse, now get in there now!"

Dean knew this was going to cause problems. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. His orders from Dad were to play along at school: follow the rules and keep out of trouble. His two weeks off recuperating from his arrow wound from that evil vampire had put his school status in a precarious position.

He wanted to just drop out; after all, Sammy was the one who loved and excelled at school. He was just wasting his time: time better spent perfecting his hunting skills and dispensing of evil beings. Dad wouldn't even consider it; said no Winchester had ever been a dropout. He told Dean to just suck it up and do what needed to be done.

Dean took a long breath and pulled his t-shirt over his head. His shoulder was completely healed and no longer caused him any pain; unfortunately, the scars on the front and back of his shoulder attested to the horrible truth: he had been severely injured when the arrow impaled his body. The red, nasty scars were still fresh and shocking to look at. He hoped that in the frenzy of the practice session no one would notice. That hope lasted all of five seconds.

"God, Winchester what happened to you?" Stevens gasped as Dean ran into the practice to relieve him.

That was enough to stop the action and cause everyone to stare. Anderson came up behind him and he felt his touch on the scar on his back.

"Man, that's nasty. Does it hurt?"

Then they all joined in, bombarding him with questions:

"Damn, what happened, Winchester?"

"Is that why you were out of school so long?"

"Yeah, I heard you had a bad case of the flu."

"That don't look like the flu to me. Dude, that's some serious injury."

They hadn't quite made it to twenty questions, but Dean knew they would reach that point and probably go past it, if he didn't shut down all their inquiries. He took a deep breath and started to fabricate his story. The tale of the vampires and saving his brother Sammy from certain death seemed a little too intense for these teenagers, so he went with the deer hunting story.

He was bow hunting with his cousin over Halloween weekend and they had a little mishap. His cousin accidentally shot him and yeah, it was quite painful but he recuperated and now the only reminder was his lovely scars. End of story.

The coach was now examining Dean's shoulder.

"My nephew's with the sheriff's department and I know he would have mentioned it to me if there was a hunting accident involving one of my students."

"Well coach, it didn't happen here. I was visiting my cousin in Tulsa. I appreciate all the concern, but it was an accident and everything turned out OK."

Dean hoped that would be the end of the inquisition, but it only seemed to fuel their curiosity. The questions just kept coming.

"Man, I bet you've had some nightmares over that. If that arrow had struck a little lower, you'd be pushing up daisies."

"Dude, I'd have nightmares just going over all that pain and agony. How much did it hurt?"

"Yeah, did you get any good pain killers?"

"Got any left over you want to share?"

Thankfully, coach finally put the questions to rest.

"That's enough. Let's get back to practice. We need to see if Winchester can manage to put any points on the board."

The practice scrimmage began and Dean was relieved to leave his travails behind and concentrate on playing basketball. For once he saw a purpose in bouncing a ball around and throwing it through a hoop on a pole, if only to distance him from all the questions.

His abilities and training were not geared toward basketball, but his natural agility and talent applied nonetheless as he scored his first two points. His defensive skills were the most evident; he certainly knew how to protect his own.

Coach blew the whistle to stop the action and called the players around for his final words of wisdom. He finished off practice and sent the players to the showers.

"Winchester, you have natural ability, you're better than some of these kids that practice all the time. Why don't you play for the school team?"

"Sorry coach. Don't have time. I've got more pressing plans."

Dean finished off the rest of his classes and was heading toward the Impala in the school parking lot when he heard Stacy calling to him.

"Dean, wait up."

He was conflicted every time he thought about Stacy. He really liked her, but she fogged his thinking. He didn't blame her for what happened with the vampire fiasco, after all it was his choice to abandon his training and common sense and disobey his orders. He took full responsibility for leaving his brother unprotected on Halloween, but it scared him that he could be so easily compromised by a girl, even a girl as amazing as Stacy.

He had lost control and he didn't like that feeling. His strength came by being in control; he didn't want to risk losing his way again: it would be easier to cut Stacy out of his life.

"Dean, wait up. What's wrong with you? I thought we had a good time at the carnival. Why are you shutting me out?"

"Look, Stacy. It was fun, but I'm not looking for a girlfriend, OK?"

"Well, aren't you full of yourself? Guess what Romeo; I'm not looking for a boyfriend! I just thought we could be friends. I thought we had a connection."

"Sorry, I don't have time for friends either. See ya around."

Dean turned and walked away. He hated how he had just treated Stacy but he knew if he tried to explain or gently let her down, he would be sucked back under her spell. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't like she was an evil temptress leading him down a dark and malevolent path. She was a sweet, wonderful girl that really connected with him but just couldn't be in his future. He was a hunter of evil; he had no room in his life for a normal relationship.


	3. Fight

Chapter Three

John took his sons to the firing range for two hours of after school practice. Dean perused the assortment of handguns Dad had brought and picked out a sleek, silver Ruger 357 magnum. It was one of his favorite guns. Bad guys would think twice before going up against that gun. He aimed at the black form of a man's head and torso on the back wall of his shooting lane and fired off six shots in quick succession. He proudly grinned at his handiwork as he hit the button to retrieve his target

John smiled as the target rolled up to them. Dean had perfectly placed two shots for the eyes and four shots for a smile into the head.

"OK Riggs, how about some heart shots now?" He challenged his older son.

Dean changed guns and slipped a clip into the automatic P-38. He fired fifteen shots into the heart area of his next target. The chest area of the paper target almost disintegrated from the onslaught of bullets. Target practice at the firing range wasn't much of a challenge for Dean anymore. He thought anyone can hit a stationary target; tracking and shooting an evil being on the run was the real challenge.

Sammy practiced his shooting in his own lane. He didn't get the same joy out of weapons practice that his brother did. He was there because he had no choice. He had learned long ago to reserve his battles with Dad for times that really mattered, or times when his frustration level just couldn't stand the training any more.

Dean continued switching out weapons until he used five or six different guns. It was a good thing they used credit card fraud to supplement their incomes from poker and pool hustling. Bullets weren't cheap!

Manny, the owner of the shooting range, stopped by to check out the Winchesters' skills. They were his best customers, coming in at least once a week. He didn't ask any questions, he was just happy to take their money. Of course, they always paid cash. They didn't use the credit cards in town. What was the old saying? Don't shit where you sleep?

John was satisfied with their practice session and decided to treat them to a steak dinner at the roadhouse. He still had a supply of cash and they might as well enjoy a good meal. He would be leaving town in another day and he just wanted to spend some time with his sons. God knows, he didn't spend as much time as he wanted with his boys.

The waitress at the roadhouse was happy to see the Winchesters, they were a handsome family. Although she was too young for the father and too old for the older son, she had her fantasies nonetheless. Her heart melted a little whenever either of them smiled at her. She wondered how they could be unattached; why some lucky women hadn't latched on to them. They never brought any women with them; she wondered what happened to the mother?

Sammy enjoyed the meal but as soon as he was done he was ready to go home to do his homework. Dean was in no hurry to return home. He was enjoying the rowdy atmosphere of the roadhouse. They had a pool room in the back and he headed over to see about a game.

He was on his third game and was just about to close the deal on a two hundred dollar wager when the bruiser he was playing against got persnickety. Dean sank the winning ball but before he could pick up his winnings, his adversary Earl grabbed up the money and called him a cheater.

"Now, I'm sure you're just having a bad day, but I think you ought to rethink your attitude there fish face." Dean retorted. Dean didn't like being called a cheater; he may have been a hustler, but he was not a cheater.

Earl was at least five inches taller than Dean and had fifty pounds on him: fifty pounds of muscle. Dean didn't back down an inch from this guy; in fact, he seemed to move in closer, taunting him. Earl took the first swing, but Dean ducked and the force of his swing almost caused the lug to fall down.

Dean was quick and agile, he moved in and punched Earl in the nose. Earl's nose started to bleed and his eyes grew wild with fury. He had started this fight with a kid and now he was beginning to realize it wasn't going to be an easy victory.

John and Sam had been standing in the pool room watching Dean play. Sam waited for Dad to break up this fight, but his dad just stood against the wall watching.

"Aren't you going to stop this?" Sammy yelled.

"Nope." Was all Dad said.

Dean moved in again and punched Earl in the stomach; it was like hitting a brick wall. Man, this guy really works out he thought. Earl hauled off and connected on a hard hit to Dean's jaw. Dean reeled and almost lost his balance. His head was spinning and blood filled his mouth. Earl moved in for the kill and pummeled his torso with four quick jabs. Dean fell to his knees, his ribs exploding in pain.

Earl grinned and started to walk away, confident of his victory. Dean knelt on the floor gasping for air, trying to regain his composure. Sheer determination willed him to his feet. He was not going to be beaten by a Neanderthal. Earl seemed surprised his opponent had returned to his feet but he turned back; ready to put him away for good. Dean moved away just until he could get his bearings.

He had to finish Earl off quickly. He didn't have many moves left in his battered body. He needed to use Earl's weaknesses against him. He waited for his opponent to make his next move. Earl moved very quickly towards him, ready to finish off this young whippersnapper with a show of massive force. Dean waited until the last second, slipped out of Earl's path, and threw out his foot to trip him. The force Earl tried to use against him now worked to Dean's advantage as Earl tumbled head first into the bar. His head cracked as it hit the brass foot rail and he was knocked out cold.

Dean reached into Earl's pocket and pulled out the two hundred dollar wager. His eyes grinned at his dad and Sammy as he waved the bills at them before he placed them in his breast pocket.

"Well Sammy, enough excitement for ya? I guess I'm ready to go home now." Dean laughed.

John put his arm around Dean to congratulate him, but secretly he was also helping keep his son steady as they walked out of the roadhouse.

Somehow this all seemed too familiar to Sam as they entered their house.

"Sammy get the first aid box." Dad yelled.

John got some linens and water and started cleaning the blood off of his older son. The damage wasn't too bad: a split lip, a sore jaw and a repeat of the bruised ribs. Dean was lucky his opponent was all brawn and no brains. His training had helped him maneuver a bad situation to his advantage.

"Dean, do you think we could let these ribs fully heal before we go battering them again?" Dad inquired.

Dean laughed even though that caused his ribs to hurt even more.

"Dad, it's not my fault. I keep running into bad guys!"

"Dad, why didn't you help Dean? You could have stopped that fight before he got hurt." Sam angrily confronted his dad.

"Sammy, I had the situation under control. No need for Dad to step in." Dean calmly offered.

"Sam, you need to realize I won't always be there. You and Dean need to depend on your own skills to get you out of a jam." John tried to reason with his son.

"Yeah, well, I guess we already know we can't depend on you. It's not like you're ever here when we need you." Sam shouted as he ran up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Silence filled the room. Dean understood why his dad hadn't stepped in. Truth was, he was glad his dad didn't treat him like a child that needed saving. He took it as a sign of respect: as validation that Dad knew he could take care of himself. Sam was overreacting, he just didn't understand.

Dean was stiff and sore and needed rest so he headed up to bed.

John sat in his chair writing in his journal. He wondered if he had failed his sons. He'd felt this way hundreds of times before when he so desperately missed having Mary to guide him in raising their boys. She always knew the right course of action, the right words to say. She softened him and made him a better man, a better father. She bridged the gap he sometimes found difficult to traverse in reaching his sons.

He deeply loved his boys but he needed to keep them strong to keep them safe. Sam couldn't comprehend how much restraint it took for him to stand and watch Dean being pummeled by a giant. How it took every fiber of his being to stand his ground and not rush in to save his son. How if he could he would take on any anguish life wanted to throw at his boys. He would spare them any and all pain and torment, but he knew that was a fantasy. John knew what was out there in the darkness. The best he could hope for was the strength to prepare and train his sons so they could fight their own battles which would come soon enough.

Dean found it easy to fall asleep this night. Exhaustion has a way of doing that. Minutes after his head hit the pillow he was asleep and heading into his first dream.

_He felt his ribs exploding as the vampires threw him against the wall. The head vampire aimed the crossbow at him and fired. The arrow entered his left shoulder and impaled him to the wall. He tried to pull the arrow out, but the head was securely embedded in the wall. The evil vampire laughed as Dean struggled to break free._

_"How does it feel hunter?" The vamp sneered at Dean._

_Dean knew if he didn't act fast he would be dead. The pain was intense but he forced himself to slide his shoulder forward on the arrow. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow and held it firmly as he used all the leverage he could manage to snap the arrow between his shoulder and the wall. He fell to the ground as the next arrow struck where his heart had been._

Dean rolled over onto his stomach, his hand reaching under his pillow to reassure him that his Bowie knife was still in place.

_Dad grabbed the shaft of the arrow and quickly pulled it out as blood started to spurt. He plunged the hot steel rod into Dean's shoulder to seal the wound and the pain was excruciating. The smell of his own burning flesh was nauseating and he wondered if he could survive this torment. His body tensed and thrashed against his bindings, muffled screams escaped from his clenched mouth._

Dean woke for a moment, shuddered at the intensity of this dream and turned over and went back to sleep. He continued with more dreams than usual throughout the night. It was a replay of the Winchesters' greatest exploits. He dreamt of werewolves, demons, ghosts and poltergeists. One after another the dreams came and went. They continued until morning and his alarm went off forcing him to face another day at school.

He was exhausted after his night of dreams, not that they were that disturbing to him, after all he had lived through all these adventures. He was tired more from the sheer volume of them. He never fell into that deep, recuperative, restful sleep. His mind was kept active all night reliving the events of his life. It was his mind that was denied rest.

He went to prepare breakfast for Sammy. He didn't feel up to cooking this morning so they settled for toaster waffles and orange juice. Sam seemed to notice the unrest in Dean's eyes.

"Dean, are you OK? You look tired."

"Just a restless night. No big deal."


	4. Maneuvers

Chapter Four

John wanted to get in one more training session before he left on his hunt early the next morning, so after school he took his sons deep into the woods far from curious eyes. They had almost two hours before dark and would continue for up to three more hours of night maneuvers.

Dad laid out his plan. He would get a fifteen minute head start before his sons would track him down and try to take him out. They each had a backpack with supplies and weapons.

Sam was in a surly mood. He still blamed Dad for not rescuing his brother from his bar fight. That was one more item on his list of Dad's transgressions: leaving them yet again for a hunt, making them spend every day after school on maneuvers, treating them like soldiers instead of sons, and finally, watching Dean get beat up by a massive bruiser twice his size and doing nothing.

Dean took this exercise very seriously. He was ready and willing to participate in these maneuvers, his only limitation being his still sore ribs, but he would never let that dampen his enthusiasm. He would take great pride in overtaking his dad and proving he was worthy.

He grumbled that Sam was going to be a liability this time; he knew how stubborn his kid brother could be when he was annoyed. He knew his brother was totally annoyed with Dad, which he really didn't understand; after all it was Dean who had gotten beat up. If it didn't bother him why should it bother his brother? Sammy was such a drama queen.

Dad took off and it seemed like an eternity before it was time to start tracking him. Dean took the lead, while Sam reluctantly followed along. John started off trying to backtrack and throw them off his trail but Dean had seen that before; he'd have to try harder to lose his sons.

John used all his Marine training to try to evade his sons, but they stayed right on his trail. Dean had always been a quick study when it came to military maneuvers. Sammy always teased him about not reading books, but Dean read what interested him: tactical maneuvers, military battle plans, practical information that could possibly save their lives one day.

They stayed on Dad's trail but were not close enough to overtake him as darkness fell. It would be even more difficult to succeed after dark. They put on their night vision goggles and continued their mission.

"Dean, why don't we just go home and tell Dad we couldn't find him?"

"Sammy, don't be a quitter."

"Why do you like playing Dad's games?"

"They're not games Sammy. They're maneuvers. This is important. Try learning something for once. If you'd pay attention, you could learn a heck of a lot more from Dad than any of your teachers. Why are you always fighting him?"

"Cause he treats us like soldiers. I just want to have a normal life. Why can't he let us be normal?"

"Come on Sammy, you can't really be that naïve? You know why. You know what's out there."

"Other people live normal lives, they don't know and they live normal lives."

"We're not normal Sammy, and we'll never be normal. We have a job to do. We have a responsibility. You better get used to it, cause that's the way it is. This is your life dude."

Sam gave up trying to reason with his brother. He'd had this conversation before and had never made a dent in Dean's position. His brother was firmly entrenched in his beliefs. He believed Dad was this masterful, all-knowing vanquisher of evil. He worshiped Dad.

Dean was getting angry with Sammy. He hated feeling this way but his brother had a way of rebelling against everything he believed in. Every fight Sammy had with Dad was an affront to him. His memories of his mom dying that terrible night had forever shaped his view of the world. Sammy still thought the world could be a safe place, while Dean had learned at four that the world was a scary and dangerous place.

Dad's war on evil was the only solace Dean had; his only chance to right the wrong of his mom dying. Part of Dean envied Sam's innocence, but he knew he himself could never again be innocent.

Dean picked up his pace; he knew they were close to overtaking Dad. He motioned Sammy to continue on their current path and he took off on a diagonal trek through the underbrush. He circled around and came out ahead of his dad who was sitting on a rock waiting for him.

"What took you so long, son?"

"How long you been waiting?"

"Only about three minutes. Not bad son, I tried to shake you but you hung right in there."

Sammy came upon them a minute later; Dean and John were joshing each other, laughing and trading quips. He was relieved that at least they could go home now. Part of him envied Dean's closeness with Dad; Sam sometimes felt like the odd man out.

It was late by the time they returned home. Everyone was tired and they all had to get up early the next morning so they silently went to bed. Dad had said his goodbyes and would be gone when Sam and Dean awoke in the morning.

_He felt his ribs exploding as the vampires threw him against the wall. The head vampire aimed the crossbow at him and fired. The arrow entered his left shoulder and impaled him to the wall. He tried to pull the arrow out, but the head was securely embedded in the wall. The evil vampire laughed as Dean struggled to break free. _

_"How does it feel hunter?" The vamp sneered at Dean._

_Dean knew if he didn't act fast he would be dead. The pain was intense but he forced himself to slide his shoulder forward on the arrow. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow and held it firmly as he used all the leverage he could manage to snap the arrow between his shoulder and the wall. He fell to the ground as the next arrow struck where his heart had been._

Dean awoke for an instant and cursed these dreams. He just needed a good night's sleep. Why were these dreams persisting? He rolled over and closed his eyes.

_Dad grabbed the shaft of the arrow and quickly pulled it out as blood started to spurt. He plunged the hot steel rod into Dean's shoulder to seal the wound and the pain was excruciating. The smell of his own burning flesh was nauseating and he wondered if he could survive this torment. His body tensed and thrashed against his bindings, muffled screams escaped from his clenched mouth._

_The pain was unbearable; he couldn't understand why he hadn't passed out yet. The hot metal was burning his flesh, searing his very soul, but still he was conscious. His fever was causing delirium and he thought he saw his mom. Mommy, wait for me. Mommy, don't go. Mommy, please don't die._

His eyes opened slowly as he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Two in the morning, what was happening to him? He needed some sleep. Why were these dreams haunting him? He willed himself to sleep without dreams and closed his eyes.

_His emotions were raging out of control: guilt, panic, shame, sheer terror. How could he tell Dad how badly he had screwed up? His brother was the most important person in his life and his recklessness had put him in danger. His brother was gone, probably hurt or maybe even dead, and it was all his fault._

_His world was collapsing in on him; he was suffocating from the weight of his overwhelming pain. He knew he could not survive if his brother died. His brother's safety was his responsibility, his job. How could he be such a selfish bastard? He had been weak and let his own wants dictate his actions. He knew he had to save his brother, that was the only option._

Dean awoke with a gasp and relived all the anxiety he felt in that horrible gut-wrenching moment when he realized his brother's life was in danger because of his negligence. These dreams were finally touching on his deepest fears. Demons, evil beings and supernatural phenomenon would be enough to keep most people in a state of anxiety, but that was common place for Dean Winchester. His real terror came from danger to his family. His mom and Sammy were the key to his deepest fears. He could survive fighting and the unexplained. Being left alone, losing his family was his true nightmare.


	5. Nightmares

Chapter Five

The school day had seemed to last forever. Dean was tired from his night of dreams and his only thought was to get home and get some much needed rest. For once he was glad Dad had left and he could skip maneuvers. He knew he would get no complaints from Sammy if he let up on their training for this one night. As soon as dinner was over he headed up to his room to catch up on his sleep.

_The fire burned so bright it was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy._

Dean moaned as he came to. Why was he dreaming so much? Why was he having this nightmare? He was exhausted from the constant dreams the last few nights, he needed rest. He closed his eyes and tried to get some undisturbed sleep.

_The fire burned so bright it was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me. I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die._

Dean awoke with a start. His heart was pounding and sweat was soaking his bedding as if the heat from the fire was real. What was happening to him? He hadn't had these nightmares in years. After his mom's death, he had struggled to find any semblance of a normal sleep routine, as the nightmares had been a nightly occurrence.

He couldn't get the images of that night out of his mind for months; they had lingered to torment and taunt him. He had felt consumed by them and the helplessness they inspired. At four years old, he couldn't comprehend this wasn't all related to him; he knew that somehow he had failed his mom and caused this tragedy. He didn't know how or why, he just knew in his heart if he had been a good enough son, his mom would not have died.

The nightmares finally eased when John put Dean's focus on protecting Sammy. He told him his brother was his responsibility and he needed to keep him safe. Perhaps that was a cruel thing for a father to do to his own son: make a four year old responsible for a baby brother, but it seemed to ease Dean's perceived guilt. In his mind, it gave him a second chance. He had finally come to understand his mom was dead and would not be coming back, but if he could protect Sammy and keep him safe, then maybe in a small way, he could redeem himself.

Why was this all coming back to him now in a tidal wave of pain and agony? Sleep was eluding him; he was having this nightmare every time he closed his eyes. What had triggered these memories? In the past, he had recurrences of the nightmare on the anniversary of his mom's death, or whenever a trauma surfaced in his life, but now? He couldn't think of anything eventful that would be triggering this torment. If they had started when he was recovering from that arrow wound, when his emotions were still raw with the guilt and shame at putting Sam in jeopardy, that would make sense. But they had not started then. Why now?

He decided to not press his luck and just rise for the day. He had gone for longer periods of time without sleep; he could survive on a couple hours a night. He went downstairs to get an early start on breakfast. He had plenty of time so he cooked some sausage and bacon to go with Sammy's eggs.

Sam came down the stairs earlier than usual, the smell of breakfast welcoming him.

"Wow, Dean. What time did you get up?"

"I've been up for a while, I guess. You need to start eating more protein to build muscle. We need to get you in the weight room."

"You look really tired. Are you sure you got enough sleep last night?"

"Look Sammy, like I told you before, no need for you to worry about me. Finish your breakfast and let's get to school."

"So, how do you like going to school everyday?"

"Like Clint says: It makes my day!" Dean smiled broadly.

Sam thought it odd again, that the only reason Dean was faithfully going to school was because Dad ordered him to. He still had not figured out Dad's hold over his brother.

Dean dropped off Sammy at the middle school and drove down the street and parked at the high school.

He was walking toward the building when he heard Stacy calling to him. He was exhausted from his restless night and didn't know if he had the stamina to deal with her this morning. He kept walking and hoped she would give up and leave him alone. She would not be avoided; she appeared in front of him and cut him off.

"Dean, won't you just be honest with me for once. What were the antibiotics really for? Sam said your hand got infected and your dad couldn't afford to take you to the doctor. Now I hear you have an arrow wound through your shoulder, some kind of hunting accident. Well, the other kids might buy your deer hunting story, but somehow I think you were hunting something else that night, like maybe vampires?"

"Look Stacy, keep your voice down. I thought that was our little secret?"

"Oh, so now we're friends and we keep secrets? Why are you shutting me out?"

Dean was so tired from not sleeping and perhaps his inner desire was to come clean with Stacy, maybe he'll never really understand why, but he just went ahead and said it: the truth; what had been haunting him for weeks, why he just couldn't trust his feelings about Stacy and the effect she had on him.

"Stacy, I like you a lot; too much, actually. I left my brother unprotected to take you to the carnival, even though I knew better. He could have died that night, that's what my lapse in judgment did. Sammy could have died and it would have been all my fault. I'm responsible for him, his safety is my job. I can't be with you. I can't trust myself when I'm around you. My life is too dangerous; I can't have any more complications. I'm sorry."

Stacy was speechless. His honesty was a bit overwhelming; perhaps this was too intense for her. She liked Dean but if all this was true, well, this could be too much reality even for her.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I had no idea. You know, you can be Sam's protector, but you aren't responsible for him, you can't be. You can't control everything. Sometimes bad things just happen."

"Not while I'm around. Nothing bad will happen to Sam while I'm around." Dean stated earnestly.

The first bell rang signally class was about to start. It was awkward since they both had algebra first period. Silently they walked to class.

Dean sat at the back of the class and the monotonous droning of the teacher only made his tired mind more prone to drift off. He laid his head on the desk and was out before he knew it.

_The fire burned so bright it was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die._

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me._

Dean awoke suddenly and was embarrassed the whole class was staring at him. What was happening? His nightmare was mutating. He had never before been consumed by the fire. He felt drained by this nightmare, not just tired from not sleeping, drained as if his life energy was being siphoned off. Something strange was happening here that he didn't understand. What was causing these nightmares and the escalation of his anxiety? It felt like something was feeding off of his torment, its evil presence becoming more forceful as his own energy waned.


	6. Panic

Chapter Six

Dean started research on dreamwalkers as soon as he got out of school. There had to be some explanation for his immersion into this dream world. If Dad had been home, he would have consulted with him but since he was gone on his hunt it would be up to Dean to figure this out. There was no need worrying Sam with this until he knew more. He gathered together the little information he could find but had no definite leads to pursue.

He took Sammy out to eat at a local diner they had started going to. He still couldn't force himself to go back to the diner June worked at. Too many bad memories, it just wasn't the same without June to greet him at the door. They had a late dinner and when they got home, Dean couldn't stay awake. He decided to give up the fight and try sleep.

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die. _

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me. _

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within._

Dean violently thrashed in his bed throwing his bedding askew on the floor. Sweat saturated his t-shirt as the heat of his torment escalated. He was in full panic mode as he cried out for his brother. His eyes were wide open, terror filling them to the brim and pushing his tears down his cheeks to mix with his sweat.

Sam awoke to the commotion and the sound of his brother's plaintive wail. He raced to his brother's side and was appalled at the sight that confronted him. Dean's eyes were open but failed to focus on his brother as his consciousness was long gone. Sam grabbed and shook his brother but he couldn't release him from his torment. He yelled at his brother to wake up, but still his nightmare continued.

Sam raced for some holy water and threw it across his brother's chest hoping against hope that would work. Nothing. He yelled the one demonic possession exorcism spell he had memorized and still, nothing. Why wasn't Dad here?

In one last desperate act, he slapped his brother as hard as he could across his face. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain he felt for striking his brother. He shook Dean once more with all his might. His voice was filled with panic as he shouted at his brother.

"Dean, wake up. Please wake up. What's wrong? I need you. Please don't do this to me. I need you."

He wasn't sure what did it, but a slight glimmer of recognition flashed in Dean's eyes. Dean looked at Sam with shock and disbelief.

"Sammy, you're alive. You're alive, I watched you die. You burned in my arms. I tried to save you, but I couldn't. I watched you die." Dean trembled as he gazed intently at his brother.

"I'm OK. Dean, it's OK." Sam felt such relief that his brother was lucid again.

Dean grabbed Sam and hugged him with all his might. Sam thought his ribs were going to collapse from the pressure, but he didn't complain. It was totally out of character for his brother to be so demonstrative and it would have been humorous if the situation had not just been so dire.

Dean was reluctant to let go, it was as if he could keep his brother safe as long as he kept him wrapped in his arms. His mind was swirling from this nightmare; it was all so vivid. The voice in his head was so compelling; at once reassuring him, and then taunting him. It all seemed so real, even now with Sam wrapped in his arms; he still felt the horror of it all.

What was happening to him? He was losing control of his senses; he was unsure what was real and what was dream. What was causing this? Who was causing this? His body and mind both seemed drained. He had no energy, no fuel. He felt empty: Lost. Alone.

"Dean, what's happening? Tell me what you saw."

Dean was breathing heavily under obvious distress. He tried to calm himself by controlling his breathing: he slowly breathed in and then out. He saw the concern in Sam's eyes and he didn't want to add to his brother's worries. It took all his self-control to calmly reply to his brother.

"Sammy, it was just a nightmare. It's over. I'm OK. Don't worry about me."

Dean always told Sam that. Don't worry about me, like he was invincible or something. Sam used to believe that, but he was slowing realizing that as much as he admired his brother, and there was much to admire, his brother was barely more than a child himself. As much as he wanted to believe Dean had all the answers, he knew in his heart he was just a boy.

"Dean, please tell me what's going on?" Sam tried one more time for an answer.

"Sammy, I'm fine. Just a nightmare. Don't worry."

Dean headed for a cold shower to wash off these feelings of despair. The cool water running over his face and body helped soothe the rage that was overtaking him. His skin felt hot to his touch and he wondered if he was running a fever or whether it was just the warm flush of his unnerving dreams. Under the cool water, he momentarily felt relieved of his agitation; until he stepped out of the shower, back into the grip of this maelstrom.

He had to find a way to relieve this torment. He needed to focus his mind and he was desperate for a course of action that would lessen his anxiety. He convinced himself a run would clear his head: an influx of endorphins might ease his turmoil; nothing like a long run to refresh your mind. He put on his running shoes and headed for the front door.

"Dean, it's late, are you sure you should be going out now?" Sam's concern echoed in his voice.

"Sam, I'll be fine. I need to clear my head. You stay inside, I won't be long."

Dean headed out into the cool, brisk, night air. He immediately felt better as his long legs broke into stride. Perhaps if he ran fast enough or long enough he could leave these nightmares behind.

John called minutes after Dean left the house. Sam answered but Dad wanted to speak with Dean. He was shocked to hear he had left the house, for a run no less, this late at night.

"Why is Dean running at this time of the night? What's going on Sammy?" John demanded.

"Dad, I don't know. Dean hasn't been sleeping; he's having dreams, nightmares. He just had a really bad one and I couldn't wake him. He won't talk to me; all he said was I died. Dad you should have seen the look on his face when he realized I was alive and there with him. He wouldn't stop hugging me. These dreams are really taking a toll on him, I don't think he's gotten much sleep in the last four or five nights. They're getting more intense. Dad he looks like hell. I don't know what to do for him."

"Sam, listen to me. I need you to follow my orders, do you hear me? This is very serious. Dean is in trouble. He could hurt himself or you. Promise me you will do what I say, no matter what Dean says. Promise me."

"What Dad? What's going on?" Sam had already been worried about Dean but the tone of his dad's voice made him realize the situation might be more serious than even he had considered.

"Sam you need to keep Dean from sleeping if at all possible. More than that, you need to keep him away from all weapons or anything he could use as a weapon. Do you understand? His life could depend on this. I want you to lock him in the room in the basement. Trick him into going in and lock him in. Do you understand me? I'm leaving now. I'll be home tomorrow. Sam, I'm depending on you. Follow my orders."


	7. Despair

Chapter Seven

Dean returned from his run feeling only slightly refreshed. He had gone without sleep for almost five days, but it wasn't just not sleeping; he had gone without sleep for days before: this was more; this restlessness was draining him, voiding his energy, emptying his soul. The cool night air temporarily revived him but once he entered back into the warmth of the house he felt a nagging drowsiness. He needed to sleep, yet he was afraid to close his eyes: afraid of what torment lay in wait for him. Sam met him as he entered the house.

"How about some coffee? I just put a pot on."

Coffee sounded good to Dean for an instant, before a change came over him.

"How am I supposed to get any sleep if you pump caffeine into me? I'm going to bed."

"Dad called. He said you were in danger. He said you needed to stay awake."

"What does Dad know about me? He doesn't even bother to be around." Dean shocked his brother with his abnormal response.

Sam knew this wasn't his brother speaking. Something was influencing him.

"Yeah, you're right. Dad's just being crazy again. Can you help me get something out of the spare room?"

"Yeah, sure. What ya need?"

Dean followed Sam down the stairs into the basement and was almost to the room when he suddenly stopped and reversed his course.

"Whoa, Sammy. I'm disappointed in you. You think I'm a fool?"

Dean turned and walked back up the stairs.

"I'm going to bed, I need some sleep."

Sam asked his brother to lock the front door and as Dean returned to check the door, Sam grabbed his wrist and snapped a handcuff on. He quickly snapped the other cuff over the radiator in the front room. He had improvised the best he could after Dad's plan failed. He looked around to see if any weapons were within Dean's reach and he thought they were clear on that point. His brother was furious with him and jerked at the cuffs.

"Sammy, what are ya doing? Let me go."

"Sorry, Dean. You're not yourself. I'm only trying to protect you."

"Protect me? You better think about protecting yourself, cause I'm going to thrash you if you don't let me go!"

Dean violently jerked on the cuffs. Sam worried he would break his own wrist with the force he was using. The anger in his eyes was terrifying. Sam felt his fury.

Several tense minutes later Dean calmed down and tried reasoning with his brother to release him, but Sam remained steadfast that Dean wasn't himself and he was only protecting his brother. The brothers stared at each other all night in an impasse.

Sam wasn't used to going long periods without sleep so, as the morning sun rose, he finally nodded off. Dean had been patiently waiting and he stood and pulled out the desk drawer. A quick rummage through the drawer produced a lone paper clip, lost in the bottom of the drawer. The lock on the handcuffs was no deterrent for him. Ten seconds and the lock was picked. How could his captor be so stupid as to think handcuffs could hold him?

He quietly walked over to his captor and snapped the handcuffs on him as he slept. Sam awoke abruptly but it was too late. His hands were cuffed behind him through the back of his chair.

"So sorry there kiddo, can't have you messing up my plans."

"Dean, please don't do this. Please, Dean let me help you."

"Help me? You don't even know me. I'm going to get some sleep."

"What do you mean I don't know you? You're my brother! Don't you know me? I'm Sammy, your brother!"

"Yeah, right, my brother. A little old for my brother, he's just a baby."

Sam knew they were in deep trouble. Why wasn't Dad here when they needed him? He was really worried about what Dean would do. Dean went upstairs, and Sam assumed he was going to bed.

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die._

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me. _

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within._

Dean opened his eyes but instead of terror or panic, his eyes appeared resigned, a strange and disturbing calm settling in. He reached under his pillow and retrieved his Bowie knife. It was a wicked looking knife with a wide, sharp blade. He climbed out of bed and went downstairs. His captor was still handcuffed to the chair where he had left him.

Sam was alarmed when he saw Dean approaching with the Bowie knife. He remembered Dad's warning and he cursed himself for not being able to restrain his brother.

Dean seemed mesmerized by his knife as he twisted the blade and it glistened in the light. As he turned the knife, he glimpsed his reflection in the cold steel blade and he cringed. He couldn't stand to look at himself; all he had was contempt for the miserable failure he saw reflected there.

"Dean, put the knife down. Please! Wake up! You don't want to do this. Please don't do this to me."

"Do what to you? Why should you care?" Dean sounded detached, distant.

"I care cause you're my brother. I love you. Please don't do this." Sam begged.

Dean took the knife and placed the blade against his own throat; the slightest pressure caused red to run down his neck. The blade was sharp and neatly sliced the flesh. He took a certain satisfaction in the pain he felt as he eased the blade just slightly into his throat.

"Dean, please stop. Why are you hurting yourself? Wake up, this isn't you, you don't want to do this. Please, Dean! Why are you doing this?" Sam's voice was filled with desperation.

"Why? You want to know why? Because I'm a failure. I had a job to do. I had a responsibility and I failed. I was entrusted with my baby brother Sammy and I let him die. He died in my arms. Everyone I ever loved has died. Mom, Sammy. I don't want to be alone. I'm tired of being alone. Sammy is calling me. He wants me to join him."

"Dean you're not alone. I'm here. Sammy's here."

"Sammy's dead."

The cold, distant look in Dean's eyes and the certainty in his voice terrified Sam. How he wished his dad was here.

"Dean, you still have Dad. Dad's with you."

"Dad's not here. He's never here. He's always gone. I'm alone. I'm tired of being alone."

Dean pushed the blade deeper across his throat causing more blood to run down and saturate the neckline of his t-shirt.


	8. Control

Chapter Eight

"Dean, please don't do this. I'm Sammy, I'm your brother. I need you to stay here with me. Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Why am I doing this? Because I deserve to die, I want to die. I failed. I let my brother die. Sammy was my responsibility, and I failed him. I let him die."

"Dean, you didn't fail. I'm Sammy, I'm your brother. Look at me, don't you recognize me? Please don't do this, don't make me watch you die." Sam pleaded with his brother.

"You're not my brother. Sammy was only a baby; he never got the chance to grow up. I let him die, I failed. He died in my arms." Dean stated adamantly.

"Dean, Sammy didn't die! I'm Sammy, I grew up. Look at me!" Sam yelled.

Sam was frantic. How was he going to break through to his brother? This nightmare, or whatever it was, had wound itself tightly into Dean's mind and was distorting the facts. Sam was furious his dad wasn't here when they needed him. He was desperate to reach his brother.

"Dean, if Sammy died as a baby then you would be four years old, right? Look in the mirror, how old are you? How old are you?" Sam shouted.

Dean's mind was cloudy from all the conflicting voices battling in his head. He was so tired and he just didn't want to think anymore. The voice telling him to do it, to join Sammy, was strong and urged him on. He pressed the knife back into his throat and felt the warm, wet blood spread onto his hands. He brought his bloody hands down and looked at them.

They were stained with human blood. He was a hunter, but he didn't kill humans; he had never before had human blood on his hands. This was wrong. This went against everything he believed in. He was a fighter, he was strong, and he didn't give up; yet he couldn't fight these urges, they were so powerful, so forceful, so convincing.

"Dean, look in the mirror. You're sixteen, Sammy is twelve. I'm Sammy. I'm your brother. Look in the mirror!"

The words echoed in his mind as he walked to the mirror by the front door and took a long look. At first, he did see a four year old boy: sad, scared, but determined. He stood staring at the image until it morphed into a sixteen year old boy, blood running down his neck and soaking the front of his t-shirt. The image only lasted a second before he once again saw a four year old, but that was enough.

"Dean, please don't make me watch you die. I can't bear to watch you die." Sammy could no longer hold back his tears as he watched his brother slipping away from him.

Dean looked at Sam's tears and he felt his brother's anguish. Tears came to his own eyes as he remembered his pain as he watched his mom die; he would never put his brother through that pain. He would never wish that pain on anyone. He dropped the knife and shook at the thought of what he had almost done.

"Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sam felt himself breathing again; he hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until now. He felt such overwhelming relief that Dean had overcome his deadly thoughts. He knew they had narrowly avoided disaster and he was eternally grateful for his brother's strength and resilience.

Dean trembled when he considered what had almost happened. He experienced his greatest distress when he realized he had almost killed himself violently right in front of his brother. He would never subject his brother to that kind of anguish.

He started toward Sam to release him when a sharp pain stabbed like a dagger in his mind. He grabbed his head and collapsed to the floor in agony. He felt his head was going to explode, the noise was deafening and the pain overcame his thoughts. Whatever was doing this to him was not going to release him so easily. It couldn't control his actions, but it could render him helpless.


	9. Protection

Chapter Nine

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die._

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me. _

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within._

The nightmare kept replaying in Dean's mind. Whatever was controlling his thoughts, although thwarted in its attempt to control his actions, was not going to release his mind. It kept rewinding this nightmare over and over again. Dean lay on the floor trapped in this cycle of misery. Sam felt helpless as he sat handcuffed and watched his brother's agony. Dean had somehow managed to overcome his urge to kill himself, but he was still not free of this evil presence in his mind.

John burst through the front door, not sure what he would find. He had tried to call and had gotten no answer. His mind had played out multiple scenarios, none of which was good. Still, he was not prepared for what he found.

Dean was lying on the floor twitching through his nightmares, a small pool of blood on the floor below the knife wounds in his neck, the rest of his lost blood soaked up by his now bloody t-shirt. John rushed to his side. Dean was breathing heavily, obviously in a great deal of distress. His dad called out to him but got no response, just a distant stare as his wide-open eyes failed to focus.

"Sammy, what happened?"

"Dad, it was terrible. Whatever is making Dean have these nightmares, tried to get him to kill himself. It had him convinced I died as a baby and it was all his fault. He cut himself with his knife. Somehow we broke through and he realized what he was doing. I thought he was going to be OK and then he just clutched his head and fell to the floor. I think his nightmare is replaying in his mind, I can't get him to wake up."

John unlocked the cuffs on Sam's wrists and sent him for the first aid box. He wiped the blood off of Dean's throat and inspected his cuts. The wounds were bloody, but not too severe. Thankfully, Dean had not reached the point were he seriously tried to kill himself. He was too good a hunter, if he had meant to kill himself, he certainly knew how. These wounds were designed more to torment and torture.

John wrapped his older son's arm over his shoulder and carried him to the sofa. He laid him down and tended to his cuts. He needed several stitches and his dad quickly stitched him up and bandaged his neck.

John was deeply disturbed by the appearance of his son. Sam had been right, Dean looked like hell. His eyes were sunken into his face and surrounded by dark circles. He looked like one of the walking dead. His face was a ghostly pale from the loss of blood with the only color coming from the purple and black bruise on his jaw. The most disturbing aspect was the vacant, blank stare of Dean's eyes.

John had to figure out a way to help his son. He needed to expel whatever was possessing his mind before his mind disintegrated from within. He had a limited knowledge of dreamwalkers and had never before encountered anything like this.

He had only a vague idea of what was happening, based on Sammy's observations. He needed his son to return to them and tell of his nightmares and how this evil permeated his mind. He would need Dean's help to overcome this evil and he prayed that somehow he could retrieve his son.

He picked up the phone and called Pastor Jim. He hoped he might have something in his treasure trove of religious artifacts and relics that could release his son from this torment. Pastor Jim had been a mentor to John in his search for answers. Jim had battled evil forces for the last twenty years and was at the forefront in the battle between good and evil. Jim said he had a protection charm that might work, and he would bring it to the house.

John nervously waited, hoping his son would survive this crisis. He was not good at waiting, it gave his mind too much time to reflect on the past and how much he had lost and how much he still stood to lose. He always felt better when he was engaged in a conflict, waiting made him feel helpless. Perhaps that helped explain why he was forever leaving his sons to wage battle with evil forces.

Pastor Jim pulled up to the house after an interminable wait. John met him at the door and Jim handed him a small, gold, ornately carved box only a few inches wide. John opened the box to find a gold Egyptian amulet nestled in red satin. He sent Sam to get the leather necklace Dean had received the year before from the Navaho Nation. When Sam brought it, John took the silver turquoise piece off and slid the Egyptian amulet on in its place. He tied the leather around Dean's neck and prayed it would protect his son. Pastor Jim said it might take some time before they would know if it was working.

Its power was strong. It took only a few minutes before Dean blinked his eyes and seemed to be focusing.

"Dean, can you hear me? Say something." John demanded.

Dean slowly became aware of his surroundings. It was as if the fog was lifting and he could once again return to reality. The memories of his nightmares still lingered in the shadows of his mind but they weren't consuming him. The terror they inspired still hung in his heart but he felt free of their control for the moment.

"Yeah Dad, I hear you."

Dean felt his neck where his dad had bandaged his wounds. He remembered his actions, they were like a dream he couldn't control. He couldn't believe he was almost coerced into killing himself. He couldn't believe he almost subjected his brother to watching that. Whatever had done this to him was going to pay. This was personal.


	10. Scabs

Chapter Ten

"Dean, tell me about the nightmares. Tell me what scared you so badly." John urged his son.

Dean was hesitant to tell his dad. He had never confessed what he saw the night Mom died. As far as Dad knew, he had never been in Sammy's room that night after Mary was put on the ceiling. He had lived with his memories all these years without ever telling. He always felt his dad had enough pain dealing with his own memories, besides Dad had never asked. What good would it do for him to know his four year old son had also seen the same horrendous sight?

Dean had spent his life trying to protect his family and he still didn't want to add to his dad's grief. He still didn't want to say the words. If he didn't say them, then maybe he could pretend it wasn't so, that it was just a terrible nightmare. After all, that was how he managed to deal with his memories all these years. As a four year old he had struggled with the memories and had somehow convinced himself it was all a bad dream: a nightmare that tormented him when he closed his eyes.

"Dean, I need to know what the nightmares were. I know it's hard, but you need to tell me."

Dean was grateful Dad had sent Sam to his room. There would be no way in hell he could tell of that nightmare with Sammy here. He never wanted his brother to know the truth. Pastor Jim had stayed to offer his assistance and it would take all his fortitude to reveal his nightmares to his dad and Jim.

"Dad, the first nightmares were of the vampire shooting me with the arrow and you tending the wound. Then they progressed to cover our other exploits with evil beings. Every evil battle we waged over the last few years would come back to me in my dreams."

"Did these dreams repeat?" John questioned.

"No, not for long."

"Dean, what was the nightmare that caused you the anxiety?" John gently prodded.

Dean was anguished just thinking about revealing his nightmare to his dad. He knew he had to provide the information Dad needed to win this battle but it hurt him to expose his pain. It felt like picking at a scab until the raw wound bled and he was afraid once it started bleeding he wouldn't be able to stop it, that it would never scab over again. He hated being vulnerable. Denial was his way of dealing with his pain. To speak of his torment gave the nightmares more strength, more power.

As much as he wanted to deny this discussion, he knew it was unavoidable. He hesitated several times as he relayed his nightmare. He struggled to get the words out and control the emotions that were seizing his heart.

"Dad, it started as the nightmare I used to have after Mom died, but it changed, it mutated. The fire followed me down the stairs and set me on fire. Then it consumed Sammy. I watched him burn to ash in my arms. The pain of losing Sammy and Mom was so overwhelming. I felt alone. The emptiness was all consuming. I felt like I was being swallowed by a black hole."

Dean had to stop to collect his thoughts. The sympathy in his dad's eyes only made his pain more unbearable. He hated this evil son of a bitch for plunging his family into this hell. It took a moment before he was able to continue.

"Dad, it felt so real. I couldn't tell what was real and what was dream. This voice called out to me that Sammy wanted me to join him. It told me to go into the darkness. It told me to kill myself so I wouldn't be alone anymore. I felt this evil presence growing stronger in my mind. It was like it was feeding off of my anguish. As it grew more powerful, I became weaker. I couldn't fight it." Dean finished and cast his eyes downward.

Dean omitted the extent of his original nightmare; it didn't seem relevant to his ordeal. There was no purpose in exposing his dad to the complete truth. He had kept his secret for twelve years. He saw no reason to reveal it now.

Tears came to John's eyes. He felt his son's anguish. He knew what loneliness felt like. If it had not been for his two young sons and his vendetta, he himself would have descended into that black hole when Mary died. He hated this evil dreamwalker for making his son relive his mom's death and making him feel the loss of his brother. He wished he could erase all the torment Dean had suffered. He vowed he would destroy this evil being so no other soul could be tortured by it.

"Dad, I couldn't control my actions. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I couldn't stop myself. I can't believe I almost did that to Sammy. What's doing this to me? Do you know? Can you stop it?" Dean's voice sounded almost desperate. He was ashamed of trying to kill himself and putting his brother through this nightmare. He always thought he could control any situation and it was deeply disturbing to realize he could not.

"Dean, whatever is doing this is very powerful. I'm amazed you were able to overcome its control. I think the bond you have with your brother gave you the strength to fight it. I'm afraid we haven't won yet. It will probably want to control you even more now; it will be hungry for more of your anguish. But don't worry, I'll figure this out. For now, you need to get some sleep."

"Dad, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

John reached out and placed his hand on his son's shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Dean, that amulet will keep whatever it is out of your mind. Don't worry. It's safe to sleep. I'll be right here with you."

Dean was nervous just thinking about sleeping. He knew he needed to sleep but he feared what dreams may come.

His tired body finally won out as his anxiety eased and he drifted off to sleep. He descended into the deep, restful sleep that had eluded him for almost a week. He slept peacefully. If he dreamed they were the normal pleasant dreams that just served to pass the night. John slept in the chair by his bed just in case his son's torment returned. Dean slept for ten hours before he finally stirred and opened his eyes.

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"Better. How long did I sleep?"

"Ten hours."

"Do I still look like hell?"

"Not too bad. Definitely better than before. Dean, when did the nightmares start? Did anything happen before they started?" John was still trying to figure this out.

Dean thought for a moment before he realized the nightmares started the night of his basketball practice. He cursed himself for not realizing the connection before, his only excuse being his mind had not been operating clearly.

"Dad, the kids in gym saw my scars from the arrow wound. They were fascinated by my injury. They actually asked me if I had nightmares over my wounds. That was the first nightmare I had, when the vampire shot me with the arrow. That has to mean something."

"That's got to be what triggered this dreamwalker's interest in you. It must be connected to school." Dad hoped they finally had a grasp on Dean's plight.

"But how are we going to find it?" Dean asked.

"We'll have to stake out the school. Keep an eye out for students that appear sleep deprived or riddled with anxiety. Since this dreamwalker can't get to you, it will feed off of other students. You'll have to go back to school and keep an eye out for signs."

"How long will Pastor Jim's amulet protect me?" Dean asked, hoping his voice didn't reveal his concern.

"You'll be safe as long as you keep it around your neck. No need for you to worry, it won't be able to get to you." John assured him.

Dean steeled himself to the prospect of returning to school the next day. He hated being afraid of this dreamwalker when he normally didn't feel fear when he faced evil beings. This was just a little too personal for him; he still remembered the terror he felt at the control this evil had over his emotions and actions. He still remembered the panic when he looked into that deep, black abyss.

Sam was relieved his brother had recuperated so quickly, but he wanted to know more about his nightmares. He quizzed his older brother on just what he had seen. Why he thought Sammy had died? What did it feel like?

Dean understood his brother's curiosity but he couldn't bear to answer his questions. He knew Sam was only hoping to help him, to understand his anguish, and his brother didn't get his reluctance to share.

"Dean, what was it like?"

"Sammy, it was a nightmare. That's all."


	11. Secrets

Chapter Eleven

Stacy brushed past Dean as he entered his first period math class. She looked tired, not as vibrant as she normally appeared. He started to speak to her, but she seemed indifferent and walked right past him. Her abrupt manner made him wonder if she was alright.

The final bell rang and he took the seat behind Stacy. He kept his eye on her but he really couldn't tell how she was from behind. He thought her body language revealed her exhaustion and he was concerned but there was nothing he could do until class was over.

Stacy had a hard time keeping her eyes open. She had endured a difficult night reliving the nightmares of her mom's death and the memories had worn her down and brought to the surface all the anger and pain she felt at losing her mom at such a young age. She couldn't keep her eyes open and drifted off toward the end of class.

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die. _

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me._

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within._

Stacy was startled awake. She turned and looked into Dean's eyes, uncertainty overcoming her.

The bell signally the end of class rang.

"Dean, what's happening? Are you doing this to me?"

"Stacy are you having nightmares? Come with me, I can help."

Dean escorted Stacy out of the classroom to the courtyard outside where they could talk with some privacy.

Dean repeated his question. "Are you having nightmares?"

Stacy told him she'd had a restless night reliving the nightmares of when her mom died, but the real confusion came with the nightmare she just had in class. It was his nightmare. He was a four year old boy and he was carrying his brother Sammy out of his flaming house.

"How could I have your nightmare? What's going on? I felt your terror when your mom died. I felt your anguish at Sammy burning up. I saw the black hole of loneliness that wants to swallow you. Dean what's happening? I felt your pain. I felt your torment." Stacy was looking to Dean for answers.

Dean was shell-shocked. He was horrified at the thought of Stacy having his nightmare. He cursed this evil son of a bitch for revealing his deepest, darkest fears. Stacy looked at him with such empathy and tenderness, that part of him wanted to wrap her in his arms and revel in her sweetness; while the other part was appalled she knew his secret anguish, and wanted to run away and hide.

This dreamwalker had managed to torment Dean even though he wore the protection charm. His nightmares were his own private pain. He couldn't bear the thought of others knowing his secrets. How could he stop this torture?

"Dean, is that how your mom really died?" Stacy quietly asked.

Dean was hesitant but knew he had no choice but to trust Stacy. She knew his darkest secret and her life was now entwined with his in this battle against this evil bastard. He took a deep breath before he replied.

"Yeah, she was killed by an evil force. She was put on the ceiling over Sammy's crib and set on fire, but I need you to not repeat that." Dean agonized over the words, but he needed Stacy to understand how crucial it was she keep his secret.

"Dean I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know. What I mean is, don't repeat that to my dad or Sammy, OK?"

"What are you saying Dean? They know how your mom died, don't they?"

"Yeah, they know." Dean hesitated again; this was so hard for him to share. "What they don't know is I saw it happen. I never told my dad I saw Mom die."

"Oh, Dean. You were only four and you didn't tell your dad you saw? I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell him? How could you stand it by yourself?"

"He had his own pain. It was hard enough for him to see Mom die like that. I don't know. I just never told. It's been twelve years. I don't see any point in telling now."

Stacy looked at him with such love and compassion that Dean doubted he could ever turn his back on her again. She reached up and gently stroked his cheek. He had not felt such tenderness since those long ago days when his mom would comfort him after a bad dream and tell him how loved and protected he was. She would caress his face and tell him all his worries were needless and nothing would ever hurt him. Oh God, he missed his mom and the safety of that time.

Stacy gently reached out and touched the bandages around Dean's neck. The concern in her eyes was heartbreaking.

"Dean, what happened to your neck?"

Dean needed to regain control over his emotions. He needed to focus. Stacy was asking more questions he didn't want to answer so to relieve his tension he fell into old habits.

"Well, I guess most of my teachers would probably like to slit my throat so I just saved them the trouble." He offered a nervous smile.

"Dean, what are you saying? You did this to yourself?"

"Yeah, with the help of our miserable dreamwalker. It can control our actions. It made me cut myself. It tried to get me to kill myself. Somehow Sammy broke through and stopped me." His smile grew weaker and then simply disappeared, replaced by a hesitant pensive look.

"I can't believe all this. How did you fight it? What can we do?" Stacy was scared at the power this evil could wield over someone as strong as Dean.

"Stacy, don't worry. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Let's go to my house. My dad will know what to do." Dean put his arm around Stacy's shoulders to comfort her.

He walked her back to the Impala and they left school.

John was surprised to see Dean coming home just a little over an hour after school started. He was more surprised to see who was with him.

"Dean, what did you find out?"

Dean struggled to tell his dad what happened. It was distressing his nightmare could be passed on to others. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone else knowing his dark, disturbing nightmare. Somehow, someway they had to stop this evil creature.

All he knew is they now had to protect Stacy from any danger. Even if he had to give her the amulet, he would not let anything bad happen to her.

John determined the safest solution would be for Stacy to leave town until they resolved this situation. If she went to visit relatives she would be out of the dreamwalker's control. Her dad was already out of the country on military business, so she called her aunt and arranged to visit her.

The most disturbing revelation came when John pointed out this dreamwalker didn't just randomly pick Stacy; it knew she had a connection to Dean. It knew this was a way to reach him. That wasn't a comforting thought to John or his older son. It meant Sammy and Dad were obvious targets if this evil wanted to get to Dean.

For the first time in his life Dean was beginning to feel hopeless. This was turning into a waking nightmare. He had his dad with him planning strategy but somehow he still felt alone in this fight. How were they going to overcome this evil? Why was this evil so intent on possessing him?


	12. Fear

Chapter Twelve

After analyzing their available information they narrowed down their list of suspects to Stevens and Anderson who were both in the basketball practice and Dean's morning algebra class, and John formulated a plan that would end this nightmare. Whatever was controlling these nightmares would have to be aware of what happened in both areas so they were the only logical suspects.

John needed to stop this evil before it succeeded in killing someone. The evil would hide in its normalcy façade until it actually inhabited someone's dreams but if they could draw it out, they could kill it with a silver bullet to the heart when it was actively inside someone's nightmare.

The best tactic would be to use Dean to expose the dreamwalker for if it was truly after him it would come back to inhabit his dreams as soon as he was vulnerable. John hated the idea of using his son as bait to trap the dreamwalker but that appeared to be their best chance at success. It would be their only way to control when the dreamwalker inhabited someone's dream.

Dean was apprehensive about enduring his nightmares again but he knew it was the only way to protect his brother. He saw two possibilities: it could inhabit his dreams or it could go after Sammy and torment him. In a choice like that, he truly had no choice. John would only agree to this strategy if he could insure his son's safety.

Pastor Jim arrived and they reviewed their plan. Sam would wear the protection charm to keep him safe and out of any possible danger. Dean would be locked in the spare room with his brother watching over him armed with a stun gun so if the worst happened, he could disable his brother without causing permanent damage.

Pastor Jim and John would each stake out one of the suspects. Pastor Jim was a religious man, but he was also a warrior in the battle against evil. He was a powerful man who knew how to fight and protect the innocent. They would arm themselves with guns loaded with silver bullets and when the evil tried to possess Dean's mind they would be ready to eliminate it before it could cause him much anguish.

They all knew their roles and were ready to engage this dreamwalker. John spent a quiet moment with his son.

"Dean, I'm proud of you. I know this won't be easy."

"Dad, just do me a favor and kill the bastard. OK?"

"Will do, son."

John and Pastor Jim closed and locked the spare room door with Dean and Sam inside. They quickly took off to tail their respective suspects. John was tracking Stevens while Jim was on Anderson.

Dean waited until a prescribed time to give his dad and Pastor Jim ample time to move into position before he removed the amulet and placed it around his brother's neck. He felt better as soon as he did. He knew Sammy would now be safe. He lay down on the cot and closed his eyes. He was nervous but he knew this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. He had complete confidence in his dad's ability to track down and kill this evil being.

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die._

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me._

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. Join your brother, he needs you. Follow him into the darkness, there is light deep within._

Dean started to sweat as the nightmare commenced. He tossed and muttered as the terror took hold. As often as he had endured this nightmare, it still haunted him and caused him immeasurable pain. He felt the evil lurking in his mind, feeding off his torment. It was as if every repeat of the nightmare escalated his anguish, building his terror to a fever pitch.

John and Jim were in position when the amulet left Dean's neck. Jim watched Anderson and saw no sign of supernatural activity or evil. He prayed John would have more success with his suspect.

John noticed Stevens' abnormal behavior almost immediately. John had been correct in assuming the evil being could not resist the lure of inhabiting Dean's nightmare again. Stevens seemed lost in his sinister bliss as the hunter came upon him. He was lurking outside his home and had a wild look in his eyes as he whirled around when he sensed John's presence.

"You can't stop me, Winchester. I'm too clever for you. You're like an insect next to me." Stevens hissed.

"An insect that's going to blow you away, you evil bastard."

John pulled out his gun to fire but something was amiss. As he aimed his gun at Stevens' heart he struggled to pull the trigger. His finger hesitated, trembling on the trigger. As hard as he tried, he couldn't pull it back. He felt an evil force in his mind, a presence controlling his actions.

Evil was overpowering him. He struggled to regain his dexterity but it was no use, he couldn't control his actions. He was fighting an overwhelming impulse to kill himself. He turned the gun back toward his own head, his hand shaking, trying to regain control. Panic gripped him as he battled his urges.

Somehow Dean was connected to his dad's struggle: he saw all the action unfolding in his mind. He cried out to his dad to fight, to overcome this evil. He could see his dad pointing the gun at his head and he felt his dad's fear. Dean's terror was escalating higher as he witnessed this unimaginable sight. He had seen his mom die and now he was poised to witness his dad's death. How much more pain could he endure?

John's anguish at knowing his son was witnessing his struggle caused him unbearable pain that also nourished the famine this evil was feeding. Dean had already suffered so deeply at the hands of this evil dreamwalker and he had assured his son it would all be over soon. He had promised he would kill this evil and now, he was failing and Dean was being subjected to even more pain and torment.

Evil basked in the fear that enveloped them. Dean's pain had risen to new levels and the joy this evil felt from his anguish was feeding its insatiable hunger. It prolonged the tension so it could feast on his escalating torment. The anticipation of the coming pain was becoming more potent and satisfying than the pain that would come from the final act.

Dean's turmoil seemed to last forever. He felt himself falling deeper and deeper into that black abyss. His last chance at a family was disappearing before his eyes. He was drowning in his sorrow, swallowed by that cosmic black hole of loneliness. The weight of his suffering was pulling him ever deeper into the vast, infinite void.

When all hope seemed lost a single shot rang out and all the torment ceased. John dropped his gun back to his side and looked with relief at the dead form of Stevens. His grateful eyes gazed upon Pastor Jim.

"John, are you alright?" Jim asked.

"How did you know?" Relief flooded over John as he took in the enormity of the situation.

"I didn't. I just knew Anderson was no threat so I thought I would come give you a hand."

"Thank God you did. Dean was witnessing this. I would never want my son to see this."

"I told you before John, God is with you."

Writer's Note: My apologies for not posting this chapter as promised. I couldn't get logged on with all the site problems this past week-end and then when the site opened up I was preoccupied with my new black lab puppy that unexpectedly came into my life and demanded my full attention. LOL She is sleeping now so I'll get this posted. Please remember all reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	13. Pastor Jim

Chapter Thirteen

Dean awoke from his nightmare and shook noticeably from his ordeal. He couldn't believe how narrowly they had again avoided disaster. He still felt the horror from seeing his dad die. The reality was his dad had been saved, but that evil being had indelibly imprinted the image of Dad dying into his mind. His heart knew it wasn't true, but he still felt the loss down to the depths of his soul.

He had finally been left alone. He had seen the last soul he had a connection with die a violent death before his eyes. The emptiness had overtaken him and deposited his vacant soul into that vast, black abyss. This evil being was dead and it was none too soon, but his legacy lived on in the terror Dean still felt. Sam was by his side, concern showing on his face. Thank God, Sammy had been spared this torment.

"Dean, are you OK? What happened? Is it over?"

"Yeah Sammy, it's over. Dad and Jim will be back soon. They're both OK." Dean choked just trying to get the words out.

"Dean tell me what happened. What did you see?"

Dean was barely able to breathe let alone share his feelings with his brother.

"Sam, I can't."

Sam knew from the look in Dean's eyes he would never speak of this. He realized his brother had been released from the fires of hell and would never share his memory of it. Sam took off the amulet and handed it back to his brother. Dean cradled the charm in his trembling hand for a moment before he again placed it around his neck. He felt somewhat embarrassed, but he just needed the comfort of it for a little while. He knew he no longer needed it, but it made his heart beat a little easier.

John and Jim quickly made it back to the spare room to free the brothers. John grabbed and embraced both his sons and seemed to not want to release them. That was so uncommon for him. While Sam knew Dad must love them, he had never experienced any demonstrative display of it that he could recall. Whatever happened out there must have shaken him to his core.

Dean was relieved to see Dad alive and unharmed, yet the vision of his dad killing himself still hung on in his memory, haunting him and causing a nagging anxiety.

John took Dean aside and inquired how he was doing.

"Dad, I'm alright now that the evil son of a bitch is dead." Dean bravely stated.

He didn't want his dad to know the extent of his anguish and he couldn't stand to see his dad look on him with disappointment again. He had struggled to regain his dad's respect after the vampire incident. He didn't want his dad to think less of him for feeling as vulnerable as he now did. A part of him felt if he projected an aura of confidence then somehow it would make it so.

"Dean, I can't possibly know what you went through with these nightmares, but I do know a small part from having that evil possess my mind. I'm sorry you had to endure that. I wish I could erase it all."

"I know Dad. But it's over. Let's just forget it."

Dean was grateful his secret was safe. Dad and Sam had not discovered the truth of his nightmare and how much he saw the night Mom died. He took comfort in protecting his family, yet that left him alone with his burden. He asked no one to share his pain. His brother and dad were safe with him, but still he was alone. Alone with his pain.

Pastor Jim left after some brief words with John. John poured himself a drink to celebrate their victory and sat in his chair writing in his journal as his boys headed to bed. He prayed Dean would have a peaceful night's sleep and all his dreams would be pleasant.

Early the next morning John called out to his boys to rise and shine. He told them to put on their Sunday best because the Winchester men were going to church.

"Going to church? Dad, have you been possessed by the body snatchers?" Dean joked incredulously.

"Dean, get dressed. We're going. It won't kill you to show a little respect at church."

"But why Dad?"

"Your mom always wanted you to be raised in the church. I haven't honored that but we can go this one Sunday."

Dean acted really put out by this turn of events while Sammy seemed pleased to be going to church. He had never been to church and he looked forward to the experience.

"You know Dad, if the roof caves in then Pastor Jim will know who to blame." Dean countered.

"Dean, if the roof caves in then you'll be excused from the service. Now, stop complaining and get ready. That's an order."

"Yes sir." Dean's posture and attitude immediately changed as the debate abruptly stopped.

John and his boys got dressed in their finest and headed out the door. They arrived at the church ten minutes before the service started. Pastor Jim was standing at the front door greeting his parishioners. He grinned as John and his boys arrived.

"Well, John, boys, I'm pleased to see you here. I hope you enjoy my service."

"Boys, why don't you go get seats. I'll be right in." John stood by Jim and watched as his sons entered the church and headed down the aisle.

"So glad you decided to take me up on my invitation." Jim smiled victoriously.

"Jim, I hate to say it but how could I refuse your kind offer. Does the term blackmail ring a bell?"

"John, I'm offended. You asked how you could ever repay me for saving your life and saving your son. I just invited you to church."

John smiled a resigned all-knowing smile.

"Well Jim, you finally succeeded in getting me to church but I wouldn't count on a repeat performance. Somehow I think this is a one shot deal."

"Then I better make the best of it. I've prepared a special sermon with you and your boys in mind."

They both turned and entered the church, and then Pastor Jim headed to the front to give his sermon while John took his seat next to his sons.

Pastor Jim's sermon covered the fight between good and evil and how every man has a role to play. How one man can make a difference even when faced with insurmountable obstacles and how everyone needed to wage their own battle against evil and defend the less fortunate. He related times when a simple act of courage turned the tide in the war on evil.

He ended his sermon with the story of the footprints in the sand. How even when you feel alone God is always with you. That in your most desperate times, when you look in the sand and only see one set of footprints, it is not because God has forsaken you. It is because God is carrying you until you are able to proceed on your own.

Dean felt Pastor Jim looking at him as he finished his sermon and he didn't appreciate the special attention. He wasn't happy about being forced to attend church and he certainly didn't buy what the Pastor was selling.

After the sermon John took Sam out to the cemetery to visit June's grave while Dean waited, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Pastor Jim approached him and tried to strike up a conversation. While Dean was normally friendly with Pastor Jim, he seemed distant today.

"What's wrong Dean. You don't look very happy." Pastor Jim inquired.

"Why did Dad force us to come here today? Did you have something to do with it?"

"I invited you to come. I thought you might enjoy the sermon. I thought you might find comfort in knowing you are not alone in your fight against evil. God is with you."

"Stow it Pastor Jim. That's just a fairytale people tell themselves so they can face the world."

"Dean, you don't believe in God?"

"Pastor Jim, if God exists, where is he? I sure haven't seen him. I've seen all kinds of demons and evil beings. I know evil exists. Where's the good? I haven't seen any angels, any benevolent beings saving people."

"Dean, God works in mysterious ways. We don't always see or understand his hand in our lives."

"Yeah, well I'm not big on believing just cause a book says I should. I need proof."

"There have been miracles, visions, unexplained occurrences."

"Well, none I've seen."

"Dean, do you blame God for not saving your mom?" Jim pointedly asked, watching for the young man's reaction.

" What?" Dean was startled and his eyes betrayed his hurt and how close the Pastor had come to the truth.

Dean hesitated, his mind racing as he pondered his response. He felt unbridled rage at the Pastor's question. How dare he? How could he possibly understand his feelings? Why would he even ask such a question? He decided he would not give the Pastor the satisfaction. He calmed his emotions before he answered.

"How can I blame something that doesn't exist?" Dean stated with steely determination.

"Dean, how can you have so much anger at something that doesn't exist?" Pastor Jim quietly asked.

Dean was speechless which didn't happen often. All his attempts to mask his feelings had not fooled the good Pastor. This conversation had gotten way too personal and he felt he was losing control of the situation and it was time to deflect the Pastor's attention.

"Thanks for the amulet, it sure saved my butt."

Dean reached around his neck to remove the protection charm and return it to the Pastor.

"Dean, I think you should keep it. Considering your line of work and history, I can't imagine anyone else who would benefit more from wearing that amulet. I think you're going to need it."


	14. Phone Call

Chapter Fourteen

"Yeah."

Dean answered the phone expecting it was Dad checking in. Dad had stayed close by for almost ten days but a new hunt had finally dragged him away from his sons early that morning. Dean was unsettled by the quiet, deliberate voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello Dean. It's been a long time, have you had any interesting dreams lately?"

"Who is this?"

The monotone voice on the other end of the phone was sinister and disturbing.

"I think you know." The voice paused before whispering. "It's your dream buddy. I've missed you."

"What are you talking about? Who is this?" Dean's voice was noticeably agitated.

"Dean, don't be that way. You know who this is." The voice calmly replied.

Dean felt a growing knot roiling in his stomach. He knew his nightmare was starting all over again. How could this be? How could Dad be so wrong? Jim killed the evil son of a bitch!

"You're dead." Dean coldly stated.

"Hmm, I don't feel dead. Maybe you have me mixed up with someone else. Are you going to come play with me?"

Dean's voice betrayed his emotions as his anger and terror caused his voice to rise in volume and contrast even more sharply with the cold, methodical, evil voice on the phone.

"You're a freakin' Looney Toon if you think I would ever let you into my dreams again!"

"Now Dean, it wasn't that bad. I though we had quite a good time. I know I did."

"Why are you doing this you freak? Why me?"

"Dean, why settle for fish sticks when you can have caviar?"

"You're crazy if you think I would let you back into my dreams. You tried to make me kill myself. I would never let you do that again."

"Dean that was a mistake. My protégé got a little carried away with himself. I don't want you to die, that would end my fun. I only want you to suffer. Do you know how delectable your anguish is? I've been at this a very long time and I've never been so satisfied. You are quite amazing. You've lived a very stimulating life for one so young."

"Gee thanks Hannibal, but I think I'll pass on the dinner invite."

"Well Dean, we have two options here. One - you take off that silly necklace and let me in or two – I see what dreams may come with Sammy. I'm sure he has some interesting dreams to host for me. Somehow I don't think they're quite the caliber of yours but considering your family business I'm sure they're more interesting than the rest of this hick town."

How Dean wished his dad had not left on yet another hunting trip. How could this all be starting again? He briefly considered his options, but he knew immediately he only had one. He had spent his life protecting Sammy, he would be damned if he would ever let this evil being near his brother.

"How do I know you won't try to kill me? Why would I trust you?"

"Think back Dean. You know there were two voices in your head. Stevens was urging you to kill yourself. I was the calming, reassuring voice that pulled you back from the edge. Do you really think you overcame your urge to kill yourself on your own? I saved you Dean. You owe me."

"Oh, well, let me get out my checkbook. How much do ya think will cover it?"

"Dean, I find you so entertaining. You face all this adversity and yet you still have humor. You still go on. Where do you find the strength? Do you realize how many men would have blown their brains out by now?"

"Damn, you sure know how to flatter a guy, but tell me, has anyone ever told you that you are one seriously sick puppy?"

"Enough of this banter Dean. I'm going to give you fifteen minuets to go to sleep and let me into your dreams. If I can't have you, I will have your brother. It's your choice."

"I can't go to sleep in fifteen minutes. You've got to give me more time."

"Dean, stop trying to stall. I don't really need you to dream before I enter your mind. I know my way around your mind by now. Just remove the amulet, I'll do the rest."

"If I do this then you'll leave my brother alone?"

"Dean, I'm a man of my word. You know I want you. Give me what I want and your brother will be spared."

Dean was hanging up the phone as Sammy walked into the room.

"Dean, was that Dad?" Sam paused, waiting for Dean's response but all he got was silence. "Dean? Hello, earth to Dean?"

Dean was lost in his thoughts; desperately hoping for a bolt of inspiration that would save him from what he knew was inevitable. If Dad was here they could make a plan, together they could overcome this evil, but Dad wasn't here. He was on his own and he couldn't be the bait and catch the bad guy at the same time.

He had to protect his brother, any other objective was secondary. He would die for his brother, why should he hesitate to revisit his nightmare for him? The only sure way to protect Sam was to give him the amulet and that would leave Dean vulnerable to this evil.

"Sammy, we have a problem and I need you to follow my orders. You're going to lock me in the spare room in the basement and you will not let me out until Dad comes home. Do you understand me?"

"No. I don't understand. What's going on?" Sam was in one of his rebellious, questioning moods.

"Sammy, I'll be OK but you can't let me out of that room no matter what. I know what's best. You need to follow my orders." Dean was insistent.

"Dean, you better start explaining yourself cause I don't have to follow your orders. I'm not your puppet."

Dean knew the obvious intent in Sam's words and the implication hurt more than he would ever admit: his brother thought he was Dad's puppet. Sammy always questioned everything and he thought his older brother was too obedient. He never considered what Dean went through when the vampires snatched his kid brother. How Dean felt responsible for him and the depth of the anguish he felt at failing his brother and disappointing his dad.

If Dean wanted Sam to understand all he need do was let this evil immerse his brother into his nightmares. Isn't that what they say, "walk a mile in my shoes"? Maybe then Sam would appreciate his brother's actions; maybe then he would grasp how his brother's life had been irrevocably shaped by his mom's death and his dad's quest for vengeance, but Dean couldn't stand the thought of that.

He still needed to protect Sam from that anguish and he never wanted his brother to see how vulnerable and scared he sometimes felt. He never wanted his brother to know his pain, let alone feel it as Stacy had. He wanted Sam's respect and he couldn't bear the thought of receiving his pity.

"Sam, we don't have time for this. The dreamwalker is still alive. He wants back into my dreams. I have to let him in or he will do terrible things to others. Dad's not here, there's no other way to stop him. I have to do this."

"No Dean. He tried to get you to kill yourself. You can't let him in. I can't watch you die." Sam suddenly realized the severity of their predicament.

"Sammy, I'm not going to die. He doesn't want to kill me. He wants to feed off of my torment. Stevens was the one who tried to get me to kill myself. I'll be safe. There aren't any weapons in that room anyway. That's why you have to lock me in and leave me there."

Dean started down the stairs. He couldn't risk not complying with this evil son of a bitch. Once he gave Sammy the protection charm he needed to be securely locked in the spare room to ensure he couldn't hurt himself or his brother. Sam reluctantly followed his brother down the stairs. As they got to the doorway, Dean gave Sam one of his trademark smirks as he tousled his brother's hair before squeezing the back of his neck and shoulders in one last, affectionate grasp.

"OK Sammy, let's do this." Dean turned to enter the room.

"Dean, I don't know about this. Isn't there another way?"

"Believe me Sammy, if there was another way I'd be the first to take it. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Dean reached around his neck and pulled the amulet over his head. He placed it around Sammy's neck.

"You keep that on. Don't take it off for anything. Sam, don't worry, I'll be OK. Just don't open this door."

Dean walked inside the sparsely furnished room while Sam closed and locked the door. Dean lay down on the cot. It wasn't very comfortable and he wasn't ready to sleep but he had no other choice but to close his eyes and welcome it, along with his torment.


	15. Agony

Chapter Fifteen

Dean closed his eyes and waited for his torment to begin. He hoped that somehow he could find the inner strength to fight this evil presence once it entered his mind. His only comfort was knowing Sam was protected and would be safe.

_The fire burned so bright if was blinding him. The heat was sweltering and seared his flesh. The pain seemed to engulf everything with flaming torment. Mommy, Mommy, he cried out. Mommy, come down from the ceiling, come tuck me in. Mommy, I'm so scared. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'll be good, I won't ever be bad again. Mommy, please don't leave me, I'm so scared. Mommy, Mommy, please don't die. _

_The fire was following him down the stairs, hot on his back as he carried Sammy out of the house. It was overcoming him, it was consuming him, he could feel it burning his flesh, he screamed out in total agony. Mommy, Mommy, save me. Mommy, Mommy, I'm on fire, make the pain stop, make the pain stop. Mommy, save me. _

_He looked into his arms and saw baby Sammy was on fire. For an instant, Sammy's screams drowned out his own, until the full horror of the situation impacted on him. His brother's agony was the worst pain Dean could imagine. It was beyond his endurance, it was totally unbearable. He was powerless to save his brother as Sammy disintegrated to ash in his arms. His grief was consuming him like a fire, he wanted to die. He couldn't bear to go on without his brother. How could he live with this pain? He was his brother's protector and he had failed. Sammy was gone, extinguished before he had a chance to live. _

_Dean was alone. A black hole of loneliness beckoned him. An abyss so deep and dark that he could see no light, no hope. His deepest, darkest fear had been realized. The emptiness encompassed him until a lone voice called out to him from the deepest regions of his mind. You will always be alone. You deserve to be alone for all eternity. You have killed everyone you ever loved. Sammy and Mom are both dead because of you. _

Dean had hoped the knowledge of what was to come would diminish his distress but it did not. The intense pain and agony was crushing him every time the nightmare restarted as his torment escalated until he thought he couldn't possibly bear any more, but somehow he did. The raw emotions Evil forced him to experience only drained his energy more. The torment continued for hours and he lost all sense of time yet he knew his dreams could go on forever.

The evil voice in his head was now fabricating nightmares for him. There was no basis in fact for these dreams and he had never before had them, they just played on his deepest fears and regrets. His dad appeared to him and he ran for the comfort of his support only to have him cast him aside and turn away.

_"Dean, you disgust me. You let your brother die. I entrusted your brother to you and you failed him. You had the chance to save him and you didn't. Why am I burdened with this miserable excuse for a son? You are pathetic. The wrong son died. I wish you were dead, I despise you."_

John's hurtful words cut like a dagger through his heart. Dean would rather face a demon that would burn him into oblivion than hear his dad say these words. All he ever wanted was his dad's acceptance and now he was being forced to endure the brute force of these horrific words. His soul twisted from the anguish these words imposed on him.

_"Dad please forgive me. Dad don't leave me." Dean cried out in desperation to the darkness that was enveloping him. To feel such loneliness, to endure the last chance of another's touch and to have them turn and walk away left him totally debilitated. He pleaded with his father for redemption. His soul was barren, his hopes extinguished. He was an empty vessel being filled to the brim with despair and desolation. He was languishing in his torment._

_Dad turned and stared at him, contempt and hatred burning in his eyes. Slowly he pulled out his gun and placed it beside his head. Dean cried out, pleading with his dad to stay with him but his dad only mocked him. "Why would I choose to stay with you? Death is preferable to being with you." _

_John stood with the gun beside his head and glared defiantly at his son for an interminable amount of time before he smiled a sick, twisted smile and pulled the trigger. Dean collapsed to the ground heaving in agony. His world was empty. He was completely, utterly alone. The black abyss of loneliness swallowed him up and he descended into hell. He prayed the flames would burn him to ash and end his misery but instead they just heightened his torment. He was in the midst of his greatest turmoil and the pain was all-consuming. He prayed that he would die, and then: Silence. Emptiness. Alone. _

Dean slowly, painfully opened his tear-filled eyes. The evil force that was controlling his dreams and plunging him into despair had left. He was finally left totally alone. He felt weak, depleted, and barely capable of rising from the cot and staggering to the door. He leaned against the door and took several minutes to stop the trembling of his body and the racing of his heart. He concentrated on calming his fractured nerves and settling his surging unease.

He called out to see if Sammy was on the other side of the door but he got no answer. He so needed the comfort of knowing Sam was there, that he was not truly alone, yet he felt relief his brother had not been there listening to his torture. He was thankful that for once Sam had obeyed orders and kept the door locked.

He hoped Sam was resting, safe from danger, safe from this insane evil menace. He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his parched throat. He should have anticipated this but he knew there were some provisions stored in this room. He went over and found some bottled water. He twisted off the top of a bottle and took a long drink. He poured the remainder of the water over his face in a half-hearted attempt to refresh himself.

He had no idea how long his respite would last but he intended to fully appreciate it. He hoped Evil would leave him alone long enough to regain some of his strength and fortify his mind for the next round.

Suddenly he heard the door unlocking. Relief flooded over him as he realized Dad must have come home early. He would have a plan to conquer this evil and together they could handle any situation. Sammy walked in and Dean felt such a release.

"Dad, I'm so glad you came home." Dean blurted out.

He waited but his dad didn't appear or answer back.

"Sammy, where's dad?"

"Dad's gone. Dad's always gone." Sam replied.

Panic gripped Dean as he studied his brother.

"Sam, why did you open the door? Sammy what's wrong with you?" The distant look in his brother's eyes scared him but a quick glance told Dean he still had the protection charm around his neck.

Then he heard that voice: cold, deliberate, sinister. The evil voice encompassed him with terror. Oh God, how could this be happening?


	16. Evil Game

Chapter Sixteen

"Hello Dean. So good to finally come face to face." The sinister, cold voice was disturbing to Dean but the external facade of this evil was so unexpected.

He was a short, bald, middle-aged nothing of a man: the kind of man no one notices; the kind of man that just hangs around unseen and unheard. He was the closest thing to invisible while still having a corporeal existence. Yet, Dean sensed this was not their first meeting. He knew this man, but he couldn't place him until it occurred to him, this was the school janitor.

"What have you done to Sam?" Dean demanded.

"He's mine. I control him. I am more powerful than you can imagine. Don't try to fight me Dean. I will win. I will have my fun."

"But he's wearing the amulet. You can't do this." Dean tried to wrap his mind around this disturbing turn of events.

"Dean, Dean. I'm sorry to disappoint you but that amulet doesn't work on Sammy. It won't stop me."

"But it worked before. What did you do? What kind of evil bastard are you?" Dean was furious with this evil and would choke him to death with his bare hands if not for the restraint the control in his mind exerted over his actions.

"Dean, let's be civilized and I'll explain everything. No, the amulet didn't work on Sam before. I just let you believe it did. I do so like my games. The amulet only works for you, Dean. Once it was placed on your neck it was your protection charm, no one else's."

"But why did you let us kill Stevens. Why did you wait all this time letting us think it was over?"

"It's my game. I had no loyalty to Stevens. And Dean, you're worth waiting for. You were pretty depleted. I just gave you time to recharge your energy. I want you at your prime."

"You gave me your word Sam wouldn't be harmed." Dean knew that sounded desperate and naïve but it was worth a shot.

"Dean, little secret. I said I'm a man of my word. Guess what? I'm not a man. You really should know better. I can't be trusted. I'm evil." A sinister smirk slowly rolled up the corners of Evil's mouth.

"So, what's your game? What do you want?" Dean thought he knew the answer but he might as well keep Evil talking, buying time so he could develop a strategy.

"Dean, I plan on plunging you into a bottomless pit of despair and feasting on your unfathomable misery. You will beg me to end it but I will only extent your torment with a vengeance. As I told you before I control this game." Evil dramatically explained as he relished his power over the young Winchester.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. You control the vertical, you control the horizontal. You know you're boring me with all your gloating. Why not release Sam and I'm all yours."

"Dean, I'm disappointed. You really _don't _get it. Your greatest pain comes from Sammy's pain." Evil smiled a chilling, sinister grin, his thin pale lips curling up to reveal crooked, yellowed teeth.

Dean felt absolute panic as overwhelming terror cascaded down to the depths of his soul. He could endure these nightmares, he even welcomed them if it would protect his brother, but he couldn't stand by and watch Sammy descend into hell. He had to find a way to stop this evil son of a bitch. He was desperate as he turned to his unresponsive brother.

"Sammy, wake up. Fight this. Stay with me." Dean pleaded for his brother to snap out of it, all the while knowing it was hopeless to think Sam would have any more power over this evil than he had wielded.

"Dean, you're wasting your time. He's all mine." Evil sneered.

Evil was so confident in its power to control the Winchester brothers it had not even bothered to remove the gun Sam had stuffed in his belt: the gun with the silver bullets he had decided to arm himself with just in case.

Dean struggled to overcome the control Evil exerted over his actions. He was conscious and not experiencing any alteration of reality, he just couldn't control his actions. Evil kept him confined in a virtual prison. It almost seemed like the more he struggled the tighter Evil's hold became. He decided to relax and stop fighting until he had a chance at success.

Sam lay down on the cot and closed his eyes. Dean couldn't abide the thought of Sammy experiencing his dreams but he knew he couldn't surrender that information to this evil creature.

"So Dean, tell me. What nightmare should Sammy have?" The taunting voice inquired.

Dean desperately tried to sidetrack Evil.

"Ah, let's see. Oh, I know. How about the vampire nightmare. Did you know Sammy is terrified of vampires? Yeah, or that poltergeist in Newport? Man, Sam didn't sleep for a week after that one. I tell you that brother of mine, sometimes I wonder if he was switched at the hospital or something. Just doesn't seem to have the hunter blood in him."

"Dean, I think I know what nightmare Sammy should have. I think he finally wants the answer to what happened to his mom that night." Evil was enjoying the build up to his torment. He was salivating at the thought of Dean's anguish.

Dean tried to hide his emotions. He put on his best poker face and raised the bet, even though he didn't have a pair of deuces.

"Oh, that dream? Whatever. He's heard it so many times it won't even faze him. He doesn't even remember Mom. But whatever floats your boat." Dean bluffed.

"Dean you don't fool me. You're terrified of him having that nightmare. I can sense it."

"Well, you better recheck your radar there buddy cause you're not even close." Dean felt himself gaining momentum. He was starting to believe himself. All those years of fabricating stories was going to be worth it if he could pull this one off.

"OK Dean. I'll play along. We'll start with the vampire nightmare and build to our climax." Evil consented.

Sammy was asleep on the cot and his eyes started to move under his lids.

_He felt his ribs exploding as the vampires threw him against the wall. The head vampire aimed the crossbow at him and fired. The arrow entered his left shoulder and impaled him to the wall. He tried to pull the arrow out, but the head was securely embedded in the wall. The evil vampire laughed as Dean struggled to break free. _

_"How does it feel hunter?" The vamp sneered at Dean._

_Dean knew if he didn't act fast he would be dead. The pain was intense but he forced himself to slide his shoulder forward on the arrow. He grabbed the shaft of the arrow and held it firmly as he used all the leverage he could manage to snap the arrow between his shoulder and the wall. He fell to the ground as the next arrow struck where his heart had been._

Sammy grabbed at his left shoulder as his face contorted and Dean knew he must be dreaming his arrow impaling incident. He was relieved Evil was content to draw out his game, but he still felt pain for his brother experiencing any of these nightmares. This gave him more time, but he still didn't know how he was going to overcome the control Evil had over his actions.

_Dad grabbed the shaft of the arrow and quickly pulled it out as blood started to spurt. He plunged the hot steel rod into Dean's shoulder to seal the wound and the pain was excruciating. The smell of his own burning flesh was nauseating and he wondered if he could survive this torment. His body tensed and thrashed against his bindings, muffled screams escaped from his clenched mouth._

_The pain was unbearable; he couldn't understand why he hadn't passed out yet. The hot metal was burning his flesh, searing his very soul, but still he was conscious. His fever was causing delirium and he thought he saw his mom. Mommy, wait for me. Mommy, don't go. Mommy, please don't die._

Sammy was frantically tossing on the cot, and then the words Dean hoped to never hear escaped from his mouth, "Mommy, wait for me. Mommy, don't go. Mommy, please don't die." Sammy was choking back tears as he cried out to his mom.

Dean took a step closer to comfort his brother and he felt Evil's hold in his mind pulling him back.

"Please, just let me show Sam I'm here. That he's not alone." Dean begged.

"Does it hurt you to see him endure your pain? To know that you are responsible for his suffering?" Evil jeered.

"Why are you asking? Can't you feel my emotions?" Dean countered, pulling back his emotions and holding them close to his vest.

"They're not as strong as I thought they would be. Perhaps you don't love your brother as much as you profess."

Somehow that was exactly what Dean needed to hear. Maybe he was successfully masking his emotions. He was concentrating all his energy into not revealing the torment he was in watching Sammy suffer. If this evil couldn't fully sense his anguish then maybe he could fight this. Maybe he could overcome its control.

Dean inched closer to his brother. He was almost within grasp of the amulet when he heard a commotion from outside the room.


	17. Evil Dies

Chapter Seventeen

"Dean, Sam where are you." John yelled.

Evil's concentration was interrupted for just a millisecond when he heard the elder Winchester which was enough to seal his fate. Evil's time in this world was soon to end and he only had that same millisecond to realize the error in his thinking by allowing that damn gun to stay within reach of the Winchester boys. Overconfidence had spelled the end of more than one evil they had conquered in the past.

Dean's determination and single minded goal to save his brother was about to end this nightmare once and for all. All the anguish he had suffered at the hands of this evil would soon just be part of his memory, a nightmare only in his dreams. He'd had enough and when his chance came he would not let Evil survive another minute.

As his dad's arrival home distracted the evil creature Dean seized his opportunity to lunge for the amulet. His fingers wrapped around it and he felt his power return as Evil's control over him evaporated. He pulled the gun out of Sam's waistband, turned and fired three rapid shots shredding the heart of the evil bastard.

John entered the room to find his two sons with the dead body of the school janitor. Sam was waking from his nightmare, while Dean stood resolute with the gun still held out in front of him pointed at the dead form of the evil, watching for any sign of life. Relief still hadn't penetrated his dogged determination.

"Dean what happened?" John asked, relieved his two sons were safe and appeared unharmed. Silence followed his question and impatience got the best of him as he more forcefully repeated his question. "Dean what happened here?"

Dean was so focused on this evil that he appeared to snap out of a trance, brought back to reality by his dad's presence. His mind still not comprehending the situation was finally under his control. He lowered his gun and looked at his dad with relief. The serious look in his eyes finally seemed to wane as he felt the pressure of the last few weeks fall away leaving in its wake the realization his life was again his own. No one else would ever experience his nightmares; no one else would ever feel his terror. His pain was once more his alone.

"Dad. This was a dreamwalker. There were two of them." Dean answered.

Sammy was groggy from his dreams but he looked at Dean, quizzing him with his eyes. Dean placed his arm around his little brother and assured him it was over, Evil was dead and they were safe.

"Dean, is that what it felt like when the vampire shot you? Did you really see Mom when you were delirious? Is that how you felt when Mom died?" Sammy was drilling Dean for answers.

Dean asked his brother to tell him exactly what he saw in his nightmares. John listened silently as Sam recounted his dreams to his brother. The relief Dean felt when he knew they had not progressed to the night Mom died was overwhelming. Sam had been spared the worst of his nightmares. His secret was still his own and his family would once again be spared the anguish that knowledge would bring them.

"Sammy, remember they were just nightmares the evil son of a bitch invented to terrorize us. They don't mean anything." Dean hoped his casualness would deflate any further questions from Sam.

"Dad, why did you come home? How did you know?" Dean asked.

"I didn't. I tried calling and no one answered. I just had a bad feeling. I had to make sure my boys were OK." John responded with a weariness from too many close calls threatening his family.

Sammy settled down from his experience with the dreamwalker and it appeared he would not get any further enlightenment from his brother. Dean was ready to put this entire incident behind him; he certainly wasn't willing to discuss all the ramifications of his nightmares with his kid brother. After a few minutes of quiet reflection, John told Sam to go on up to bed. He still had school in the morning and he needed his rest.

Dean anxiously awaited the conversation he knew his dad was leading up to; Dad always wanted to review the mission after its completion. He knew his dad would have some final comment on this dreamwalker, he just didn't have a clue what that comment would be. John went to the refrigerator and took out two bottles of beer. He handed one to Dean and sat down in his chair to drink the other.

Authority figures would probably frown on a father sharing a beer with his sixteen year old son but considering how often Dean had already risked his life in their fights against evil, he could hardly be considered a typical teenager. John had proclaimed him a man on his sixteenth birthday and had treated him as an adult since that date. Besides, John no longer had much respect for typical authority figures; he knew just how clueless they were in this battle against evil.

The rules in the Winchester house were clear: no drinking when he had school the next day, no more than one beer unless John was present and never under any circumstance drinking to the point of drunkenness. John had always considered the drinking age an absurd notion: how could a country send its young men to war at eighteen and not let them drink until twenty-one? Being in the military he knew soldiers bent that rule and who could blame them?

Yes, tonight would be an exception since Dean did have school in the morning but considering what had just transpired John figured he deserved a break.

'Dean, talk to me. What happened here?" John took a drink as he intently watched his son.

"Dad, I had no choice but to give Sammy the amulet. Evil called and told me he would enter Sam's dreams if I didn't let him into mine. I thought if I was locked in the room I wouldn't be able to hurt Sammy. I thought he would be safe. I didn't know the amulet wouldn't protect him." Dean studied his dad's face for some reaction then took a swig of his beer.

"The amulet didn't protect Sammy?" John seemed puzzled.

"No. I don't know why exactly. Evil said once it was put around my neck it would only protect me. All I know is Sammy had it on and he was still controlled by this evil."

"Huh." John seemed to ponder this news with great interest. "Well son, it looks like that amulet is yours from now on. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't been able to retrieve it and shoot the bastard. You saved your brother." Dad seemed pleased with this resolution.

John and his son spent a quiet hour, drinking beers and contemplating the endless possibilities. They had achieved a positive result but any number of variables could have produced a different outcome and they were both painfully aware of that simple fact.

The amulet had given Dean the advantage he needed to overcome this evil. He knew from this day forward he would always wear it: not to protect himself, to protect his brother. He shuddered to think what fate would have awaited Sam if he had not regained control over his actions; if he had not been able to triumph over this evil. It was an advantage he could add to his arsenal of weapons to keep his brother safe.

TBC

One final chapter to go (Ten years later)


	18. Ten Years Later

Chapter Eighteen

Ten years later

Sam gasped as his eyes flew open and he came back to the reality of another seedy roadside motel. His brother glanced at him over thetop of the lap top computer he had set up on the small table by the window.

"Another nightmare about Jess?" Dean asked casually, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah." Sam replied quietly.

"You know, if it would help. Uh, you could tell me about them."

Sam looked at his brother with amazement. Dean never wanted to share touchy, feely, emotional stuff. He decided his brother must be more concerned about his mental state than he would ever admit.

"Why would I want to tell you about my nightmare?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Hey, I just thought if you wanted to. Never mind. No problem." Dean seemed almost hurt.

Sam's memory wandered back ten years to a time when he was the one asking his brother to share his nightmares. It was a time when his brother almost seemed human, almost seemed vulnerable. He was only twelve but he knew the nightmares shook his brother to his very core. He had begged his brother to let him in to share his pain, but Dean had steadfastly refused any attempts to console him.

Instead Dean had given him the one item that would stave off the nightmares: the gold amulet that still hung around his brother's neck ten years later. He had surrendered his salvation and endured more of his nightmares. Sam remembered with wonder his brother's act of love and devotion.

"Dean, remember when you were the one having the nightmares?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Ten years ago. Back when Pastor Jim gave you that amulet?"

Dean knew exactly what Sam was referring to; he just didn't want to remember. The pain still came to him every once in a while when he least expected it, when an unforeseen stress would trigger the memories and the nightmare of that time would revisit him. Sam still didn't fathom the terror those dreams instilled in him. God Bless Sam in his innocence.

"Yeah, right. Good times." Dean replied sarcastically.

"I tell you what. You share your nightmares and I'll share mine." Sam countered in one last attempt to penetrate his brother's protective wall.

"Sam, that was ten years ago. I don't even remember them."

"Yeah, right. Just slipped your mind, huh?"

"Shut up, Sam." Dean got up and turned off the light by the table. He lay down on his bed and acted like he was going to sleep.

Sam lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, quietly realizing that maybe he shouldn't have opened this particular can of worms. Since his mind was already focused on Dean's amulet another memory came to him.

Three years after Dean received the amulet he lost it. He was excavating a grave and the leather rope broke. When he realized it was missing he didn't exactly panic but he did sift through that huge pile of dirt until he finally found it. He then purchased a more substantial leather rope and secured the amulet on. He had not taken it off since.

It was almost freaky how he never removed it. Dean was not overly sentimental or superstitious but that amulet seemed to hold special significance for him. Sure, it had protected him from that evil dreamwalker but seriously how many times would you encounter a dreamwalker you needed to ward off? Even in their line of work? When Sam asked him about it, all Dean would say was it was just habit, not fear: a precaution, like sleeping with his Bowie knife under his pillow.

Sam's foolhardiness had now propelled Dean back ten years and he was lost in his own memories. Damn his brother's probing. As smart as Sam was, he sometimes teetered on the brink of idiocy. Dad had once said there was a fine line between idiot and genius and sometimes Dean thought his brother straddled that line. Sure he was book smart, but sometimes he lacked common sense.

He should know better than to stir up these memories. He should realize that sometimes it's best to let a sleeping dog just die in its sleep, then bury it in the backyard and be done with it. You mess with that dog by waking it and the damn bitch might end up biting you.

Why was he stirring up Dean's memories of those nightmares? Sam still didn't realize the painful images that reverberated in his head and how he still struggled with the feelings of being abandoned; of standing alone on that black, infinite precipice.

He had somehow made it through his teens with his family intact, but those fears of being alone were never completely vanquished. He had again felt the pain when Sam up and left him for college. And then once more when Dad just took off with no explanation, only a cryptic voice message on his phone.

He had swallowed his pride and asked his brother to help him find Dad. Damn, he had never asked him for anything before. He must have really been desperate, but he figured he was his dad too. It shouldn't have been that big a deal. Most sons would want to help find their missing Dad, wouldn't they?

"Dean, look I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Huh? What?" Dean was brought back to the present by Sam's comment and he wasn't fully aware yet.

"I'm sorry I brought up your nightmares. I know you never wanted to share them with me. I should have respected that. I just always wanted to help you and you never want any help."

Dean smiled a nervous smile. This would be really amusing if it wasn't so damn ironic. Sam thinks he never wanted any help and he was just remembering groveling for his brother's help to find Dad. Dean's pride wouldn't let him forget the one time he asked for help, it was forever etched in his mind; a permanent reminder of his weakness. _I guess we really do see things differently._

"Sam, I appreciate the concern. I do. But examining them isn't going to change anything. You need to learn you can't fix everything. Bad things happen and life goes on."

Besides it was Dean's job to fix things, not Sam's. He could try to fix his brother's nightmares over Jess if he would let him but it was a foreign concept to think his little brother could offer any assistance concerning his own nightmares. The one thing Dean could never conceive of was asking for help, especially from his brother. He had already asked all he ever could from him. For now Sam had given up his hope of a normal life to stay with him and fight this battle.

Dean looked at his brother there with him in this dingy motel room and considered for the first time he was not alone. As a sixteen year old he never imagined he would survive ten years and still have his family. Considering their line of work it was surprising they were all still alive. Dad may be missing but he felt in his heart he was OK and he knew they would find him and be a family again.

That sixteen year old boy who had those terrible nightmares about losing everyone he loved and ending up alone on the precipice of a black abyss was fading into the back recesses of his mind. He still had lingering fears but for the moment he was not alone, he had his brother right there with him. Side by side they would wage this battle. Who knew what the future would hold? For now, he had to be satisfied with the present. In this time and place, he was not alone and he took comfort in that.

Dean smiled contentedly and looked over at his brother on the bed next to him. It felt right to be together with his brother again on this journey. His brother was turning out to be an acceptable companion; of course, a good-looking girl would be a definite improvement. A sly smile crossed his face as he started thinking about that cute girl down at the motel desk.

"Dean thanks for giving me the amulet." Sam again interrupted his thoughts but this time Dean knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Yeah, well it didn't do you much good." Dean muttered.

"But it's the thought that counts. You sacrificed yourself for me. That counts for something." Sam offered.

"Well, this is a Hallmark moment if there ever was one." Dean scoffed.

"Dean, would you just be serious for a moment and let me get this out. I just want to say thanks for being my big brother and my protector. You've always been there for me. I've always known I could count on you." Sam sincerely tried to thank his brother.

"Yeah, whatever. I guess it's in the job description." Dean replied trying to deflate this chick flick moment.

"Well, lucky me you took on the job." Sam flashed a huge grin.

"Well, if you're so impressed with the job performance how about a raise?"

"What exactly am I paying you now?" Sam challenged as laughter erupted in him. He gave up trying to be serious and played along with his brother's jokes. He surrendered any thought of having a grown up, responsible conversation and just took comfort in having a big brother like Dean.

"Oh, yeah I forgot. You cheapskate. When am I gonna get paid?" Dean feigned indignation.

"Well, let's see. I'm working as a ghost / demon / evil entity hunter and the pay is crap. How do you expect me to pay you?" Sam roared with laughter.

"See, if you'd paid attention to Dad's lessons you'd be scamming those credit cards and hustling pool and supporting your big brother in his old age." Dean scolded.

"You're not old yet. You just look like hell cause of the hard life you've led." Sam teased.

"Oh, so I look like hell? That chick down at the front desk sure thought I looked mighty fine." Dean acted offended.

"Yeah, but she's a candidate for lasik surgery, didn't you see how she was squinting? I don't think she could tell the difference between Brad Pitt and Adam Sandler."

"Man, you are just jealous. You've always been jealous of my appeal with the ladies." Dean smirked. As an afterthought he got a concerned look on his face as he continued, "And which one of those are you saying I look like?"

"Well, Dean you do seem to think you're a comedian and I don't remember old Brad doing too many comedies." Sam was very amused with himself.

"Boy, you sure know how to hurt a guy." Dean sincerely gave his 'Oh, poor picked upon me' look, before he grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and threw it with hunter precision at his brother's laughing face.

"OK that's it. Big brother's goin' down!" Sam shouted as he bounded off his bed with his own pillow ready to take aim. Dean ducked as the pillow came flying in his direction.

The battle was on as both brothers grabbed pillows and proceeded to beat each other over the head with them. Any ill feelings over the last ten years disappeared in a brotherly brawl of laughter and comradery. It brought them both back to a simpler time when they were just kids letting off steam after being cooped up all day driving around in the Impala.

They playfully whacked each other with the pillows until they broke and feathers started cascading down like ash from a distant fire, then the brothers just collapsed on their beds from the exertion of laughing so hard.

"Hey big spender," Dean snickered, "I think you better leave a tip for the maid this time."

THE END

Writer's note: I hope you enjoyed reading my story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just can't get enough of these characters, especially Dean. I have two new stories started but haven't decided which one to concentrate on yet. LOL I will probably start posting in a week or two, going on vacation! Yeah!

I hate to beg, but please leave a review if you enjoyed my story. I really love hearing from you, even if it is just a word or two although I truly love the long detailed reviews that some of you have so thoughtfully posted. If you found problems or improvements I could make please let me know. Any and all feedback is appreciated as I am still new to this whole experience. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: No I don't own the characters although I would certainly love to. Perhaps I could just borrow them for a long week-end! I have no connection to the show Supernatural and Mr. Kripke still has not contacted me to fill me in on all relevant statistics and background facts, so I am making my own scenarios. LOL


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